An essay in aid of a grammar of assent

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ESSAY

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:\ GR"'\M\L-\R OF ASSENT.

AN ESSAY

IN AID O}o"

A GRAMMAR OF ASSENT

BY

JOHN HENRY CARDI
A.L NE\V
IAN

Non in dialecticâ complacuit Dco salvum facere populum suum.

T. AMBROSE.

NEJV EDITION

LONDON
LON G :\1 A N S
G R E E
, AND C O.
A
D KEW YORK: 15 EAST 16th STREET
18 9 2

TO THE RIGHT HOXOURABLE

\VILLIA:\l l\10XSELL, l\I.P., ETC., ETC.*

l\Iv DEAR :\IOXSELL,
I secrn to have SOine clairn for asking leave of you to
prefix your narne to the following sinall V OlUIl1e, since it
is a nlenlorial of \vork done in a country which you so
ùearly love, and in behalf of an unùertaking in ,,,hich
you feel so deep an interest.
?\" or do I venture on the step ,vithout SOine hope that
it is ,vorthy of your acceptance, at least on account of
those portions of it \vhich have already recei\-ed the
approbation of the learned n1en to \\"hor11 they were
addressed, and \vhich have been printed at their desire.
But, even though there \vere nothing to recomnlcnd it
except that it came fronl me, I kno\v \yell that you
would kinùly ".c!corne it as a token of the truth and
constancy with which I am,
l\Iv DEAR 1IoNSELL,
Yours very affectionately,

r. \ .o"t.o.,/bt.., J 85 8 .]

JOlIN H. NE\Vl\IAN.

ow LOI{I> E.
II.Y. 1

ADVER TISEl\IEXT.

I T has been the fortune of the author through life,
that the Volumes which he has published have grown
for the Inost part out of the duties which lay upon hi(n,
or out of the circurnstances of the n10n1ent. Rarely has
he been master of his O\Vll studies.
The present collection of Lectures and Essays, \vrittcn
by him \vhile Rector of the Catholic University of Ire-
land, is certainly not an exception to this relnark.
Rather, it requires the above consideration to be kept in
vie\.v, as an apology for the \vant of keeping \vhich is
apparent behveen its separate portions, some of thenl
being written for public delivery, others \vith the
privileged freedonl of anonymous compositions.
I-Io\vever, whatever be the inconvenience \vhich such
varieties in tone and character may involve, the author
cannot affect any conlpunction for having pursued the
illustration of one and the sanle ilnportant subject-nlatter,
with \vhich he had been put in charge, by such n1ethods J
graver or lighter, so that they \':erc lawful, as successively
ca nle to his hanô.

b Ovt/llber, 18 )8.

CONTE1VT.5-

PART 1.

ASSEN'r AND APPREHENSION.

CHAPTER I.

Modes of hoMing and apprehending Propositions .

1.)r odes of holding Propositions

2. Modes of apprehending Propositions

P.\GE
3
3
9

CHAPTER II.

A
sent considered as Apprehensive

13

CHAPTER III.

Thp Apprehcn
ion of Propositions

19

CHAPTER IV.

Notional and Real Assent

1. Notional Assents .

2. Re.11 Asscnts
.
3. Noti-:-nal Dnd Rcal Assents contrasted

3ß
42

,.....
It)

8D

CHAPTEn V.

Apprehension and Assent in the matter of Religion

1. 13clicf in one God.

2. Belief in the Holy Trinity

3. Belief ill Dogmatic Theology

!)8
lOt
122
142

Vll1

Contents.

PART II.

ASSENT AND INFFRENC'R.

CHAPTER VI.

A 5Sf'nt consirlt'rf'd as Unconditional

1.
imple Assent ·

2. Complex Assent .

PADI"
1:>7
159
188

CHAPTJ.R VI I.

C{'rtitmlc .

1. Assent and Ccrtitude cOl1tra
tl'ù .

2. Imlefectibilit), of Certitude .

210
210
221

CHAPTEU VIII.

Inference

1. Formal Infercnce .

2. Informal Inference

3. Katural Inference.

. 259
. 259
288
. 330

CIL\ PTEI: IX.

'I'hc Illative Seuse

1. The Sanction of the Illabye
ensc

2. The Kature of the Il1ntive
f'n
f' .

3. The Hallgf' of t1H' l11ath'e HellSt' .

343
. 3 :l

353
360

CH.\ PTEH X.
Inference :\1ul Assent in tllf' mattf'r of Heligioll .

1. X aturul Heligion .

2. Hevcalcd Heligioll .

. 38t
. 3t-1

. 409

f'ÇOTES :-
1. On Hooker aud Chilling-worth . . 4H3
2. On the alterllath'c intellectually between Atheism Dnd
Catholidty . . .W5
3. Oß the puuishment of t1te wil'kcd having 110 termi-
nation . . 50]

PART ).
ASSEN1' AND APl)l{EH
NSIUN 4

CHAPTER I.

MODES OF HOLDING AND APPREHENDING PROPOSITIONS.

1.
IoDES OF HOLDING PROPOSITIONS.

1. PROPOSITIONS (consisting of a subject and predicate
united by the copula) may take a categorical,conditional,
or interrogative form.
(1 J An interrogative, when they ask a
uestloll,
(e. g. Does Free-trade benefit the poorer classes ?) and
in1ply the possibility of all amrmative or negative
resolution of it.
(2) A conditional, when they express a Conclusion
(e. g. Free-trade therefore henefits the poorer classes),
and at once iInply, and imply their dependence on,
other propositions.
(3) A categorical, when they simply n1ake an Asser-
tion (e. g. Free-trade does benefit), and imply the
absence of any condition or reservation of any ki nd,
looking neither before nor behind, as resting in them-
selves and being intrinsically conlplete.
These three modes of shaping a proposition, distinct
flS they are from each other, follow each other in natural
sequence. A proposition, which starts ,vith being a
1J 2

4 ill odes of lloldÙzg Proþosz"tioll
.

Question, may become a Conclusion,and then be changed
into an Assertion; but it has of course ceased to be a
question, so far forth as it has become a conclusion, anù
bas rid itself of its argumentative form-that is, has
cpased to be a conclusion,-so far forth as it has become
an assertion. A question has not yet got so far as to
be a conclusion, though it . s the necessary preliminary
of a conclusion; and an assertion has got beyond being
a mere conclusion, though it is the natural issue of a
conclusion. rrheir correlation is the measure of their
distinction one from another.
No one is likely to deny that a question is distinct
both from a conclusion aud from an assertion; and an
assertion will be found to be equally distinct from a
conclusion. For, if ,ve rest our affirmation on argu-
luents, this sho,,
s that \ve are not asserting; and, \vhen
we assert, \ve ào not argue. An assertion is as distinct
from a conclusion, as a word of command is from a per-
suasion or recommendation. Command and assertion,
as such, both of them, in their different ways, dispense
,vith, di.;;card, ignore, antecedents of any kind, though
antecedents may have been a sine quâ non condition of
their being elicited. They both carry with them the
pretension of being personal acts.
In insisting on the intrinsic distinctness of these
three modes of putting a proposition, I am not main-
taining that they Inay not co-exist as regards one and
the sanle suhject. For what we }1ave already concluded,
we may, if we \vil1, luake a question of; and ,vhat we
are asserting, ,ve may of course conclude over again.
We nlay assert, to one nlan, and conclude to another,

lllodes of holding Proþositions. 5

and fisk of a third; still when we assert, WP do not
conclude, and, \vhen we assert or conclude, we ùo not
question.

2. The internal act of holding propositions is for the
most part analogous to the external act of enunciating
them; as there are three ways of enunciating, so are
there three \vays of holding them, each corresponding
to each. These three mental acts are Doubt, Inference,
and A
sent. .A. question is the expression of a doubt;
a conclusion is the expression of an act of inference;
and an assertion is the expression of an act of assent.
To doubt, for instance, is not to see one's way to hold,
that Free- trade is or that it is not a benefit; to infer,
is to hold on sufficient grounds that Free-trade 111ay,
must, or should be a benefit; to assent to the proposition,
is to hold that Free-trade is a benefit.
1Ioreover, propositions, \V hile they are the material of
these three enunciations, are also the objects of the three
corresponding nlental acts; and as without a proposition
there cannot be a question, conclusion, or assertion, so
,vithout a proposition there is nothing to doubt about,
nothing to infer, nothing to assent to. 1tIental acts of
'whatever kind presuppose their objects.
And, since the three enunciations are distinct from
each other, therefore the three mental acts also, Doubt,
Inference, and Assent, are, with reference to one and
the same proposition, distinct from each other; else,
why should their several enunciations be distinct?
And indeed it is very evident, that, so far forth as
we infer, we do not doubt, and that, when \ve assent,

6 Modes of holding ProþositioJls.

we are not inferring, and, when we dúubt, we cannot
assent.
And in fact, these three modes of entertainÍ1 Lg pro-
positiolls,-doubting them, inferring them, assenting to
them, are so distinct in their action, that, when they
are severally carried out into the intellectual habits of
an individual, they becomè the principles and notes of
three distinct states or characters of mind. For instance,
in the case of Revealed Religion, according as one or
other of these is paramount ,vi thin hÎIn, a man is a
sceptic as regards it; or a philosopher, thinking it more
or less probable considered as a conclusion of rea
on ; or
he has an unhesitating faith in it, and is recognized as
a believer. If he simply disbelieves, or di

ents, then
he is assenting to the contradictory of the thesis, viz.
to the proposition that there is no Revelation.
]'Iany mind8 of course there are, ".hich are llr)t under
the predominant influence of any vne of the threo. Thus
men are to be found of irreflectivc, impulsive, unsettled,
or again of acute minds, who do not kno,v what t!1.ey
believe and ,vhat they do not, and who nlay be by turns
sceptics, inquirers, or believers; ,vho doubt, assf,nt, iufer,
and doubt again, according to the circumstances cf the
season. Kay further, in all minds there is a certail) co-
existence of these distinct acts; that is, of two of them,
for ,ve can at once infer and assent, though ,ve Cf
nuot at
once either assent or infer and also doubt. Indeed, in
a lllultitude of cases we infer truths, or apparent tt"uths,
before, and while, and after we assent to them.
Lastly, it cannot be denied bhat these three acts are
ull natural to the mind; I lllean, that, in exercl81ng

llfodes of holding Proþositions. 7

them, we are not violating the la\vs of our nature, as
if they were in themselves an extravagance 01' \veakness,
but are acting according to it, according to its legit.i-
Inate constitution. Undoubtedly, it is possible, it is
common, in the particular case, to err in the exercise of
Doubt, of Inference, and of Assent; that is, we ma}' be
withholding a judgillent about propositions on which
'.ve have the means of coming to some definite conclu-
sion; or we may be assenting to propositions which \ve
ought to receive only on the credit of their premisses

or again to keep ourselves in suspense about; but such
errors of the individual belong to the individual, not to
his nature, and cannot avail to forfeit for him his natural
right, under proper circumstances, to doubt, or to infer)
or to assent. vVe do but fulfil onr nature in doubting,
inferring, and assenting; and our duty is, not to abstain
from the exercise of any function of our nature, but to
do what is in itself right rightly.

3. So far in general :-in this Essay I treat of pro-
positions only in their bearing upon concrete matter,
and I am mainly concerned \vith As'Sent; \vith In-
ference, in its relation to Assent, and only such inference
as is not demonstration; with Doubt hardly at aU. I
dismiss Doubt with one observation. I have here spoken
of it simply as a suspense ofnlind, in which sense of the
,vord, to have cc no doubt" about 3. thesis is equivalent
to one or other of the two remaining acts, either to
inferring it or else assenting to it. However, the \vord
i8 often taken to Inean the deliberate recognition of a
thesis as being uncertain; in this sense Doubt is nothing

8 ii/odes of holding Proþositions.

else than an assent, viz. an assent to a propo
ition
at variance with the thesis, as I have already noticed
in the case of Disbelief.
Confining myself to the subject of Assent and In-
ference, I observe two points of contrast bet,veen
them.
The first I have already not.ed. Assent is uncon-
ditional; else, it is not really represented by assertion.
Inference is ccnditional, because a conclusion at least
inlplies the assumption of premisses, and still lllore,
because in concrete matter, on 'which I am engaged,
demonstra-tion is impossible.
Tbe second has regard to the apprehension necessary
for holding a proposition. "\Ve cannot assent to a pro-
position, ,vithout some intelligent apprehension of it;
whereas we need not understand it at flU in order to
infer it. "\Ve cannot give our assent to the proposition
that cc x is z," till 've are told something about one or
other of the terms; but we can infer, if "x is y, and
y is z, that x is z," \vhether we kno,v the meaning of
x and z or no.
These points of contrast and their results will come
before us in due course: here, for a time leaving the
consideration of the modes of holding propositions, 1
proceed to inquire into ,vhat is to be under::5tood by
apprehending them.

l1Iodes of aPþrehending Proþositio1ls. q

2.
IoDEs OF APPREHE
TDING rROPOSI1'IO
S.

By our apprehension of propositions I meàn our imposi.
tion of a sense on the terms of ,vhich they are con1posed.
Kow what do the terms of a proposition, the subject and
predicate, stand for? Son1etimes they stand for certain
ideas existing in our o,vn minds, and for not.hing
outside of them.; sometimes for things sin1ply external
to us, brought home to us through the experiences and
infol'mations we have of theln. All things in the exterior
",vorld are unit and individual, and are nothing else; but
the mind not only contemplates those unit realities, as
they exist, but has the gift, by an act of creation, of
bringing before it abstractions and generalizations.
,vhich have no exi
tence, no counterpart, out of it.
Now there are propositions, in which one or both of
the terms are common nouns, as standing for what is
abstract, genera.l, and non-existing, such as " )fan is an
è\nimal, some men are learned, an Apostle is a creation
of Christianity, a line is length
-ithout breadth, to
err is human, to forgive divine." 'rhese I shall call
notional propositions, and the apprehension with which
we infer or assent to them, notional.
And there are other propositions, which are c
mposed
of :singular nouns, and of which the terlns stand for

10 11Iodes of aþþrellèndÙzg Proþositio,/,s.

things external to us, unit and individual, as " Philip
was the father of Alexander," "the earth goes round
the sun," "the Apostles first preached to the J e,vs ;H
and these I shall call real propositions, and thcil.
apprehension real.
There are then two kinds of apprehension or inter-
pretation to which propositions may Le subjected,
notional and real.
N ext I observe, that the same proposition rnay admit
of both of these interpretations at once,havinga notional
sense as used by one man, and a real as usel1 by another.
Thus a schoolboy n1ayperfectly apprehend, and construe
,vith spirit, the poet's words, " Dum Capitoliulll scaudet
cum tacitâ Virgine Pontifex ;" he has seen steep hills,
flights of steps, and processions; he knows what enforced
silence is; also he knows all about the Pontifex
Iaxi-
mus, and the V e
tal Virgins; he has an abstract hold
Bpon every word of the description, yet without the
"Words therefore bringing before him at all the living
image ,vhich they would light up in the mind of a con-
temporary of the poet, 'v ho Lad seen the fact described,
or of a morlern historian who had duly informed himself
in the religious phe
omena, and by meditation had
realized the Roman ceremonial, of the age of .d..ugl1stus.
Again, "Dulce et decorum est pro patriâ luori," is a
mere common-place, a terse expression of abstractions
in the mind of the poet himself, if Philippi is to be the
index of his patriotism, whereas it would be the r
cora
of experiences, a sovereign dogrna, a grand aspiration,
illflalning the imagination, piercing the heart, of fl
\Vallace or a Tell.

lllodes of aPþ1'chelldillg Proþositions. I I

As the multitude of cummon nouns have originally
been singular, it is not surprising that many of theJn
should so remain still in the apprehension of particular
individuals. In the proposition ,( Sugar is sweet," the
predicate is a cornmon nOlln as us
d by those who have
compared sugar in their thoughts with honey or glyce-
rine; but it lnay be the only distinctively s\veet thing
in the experience of a child, and may be used by him as
a noun singular. The first time that he tastes sugar,
if his nur
e says, ce Sugar is sweet" in a notional sense,
meaning by sugar, IUlnp-sugar, powdered, brown, and
candied, and by sweet, a
pecific flavour or scent which
is found in many articles of food and lllany fiowe'rs, he
may answer in a real sense, and in an individual pro-
position" Sugar is sweet," meaning" this sugar is this
s,veet thing.'
Thirdly, in the same mind and at the same time, the
sanle proposition filay express both what is notional and
what is real. "1'"hen a lecturer in mechanics or chemistry
shows to his claðs by experiment some physical fact., he
and his hearers at once enunciate it as an individual
thing before their eyes, and also as generalized by their
Ininds into a law of nature. ,'Then Virgil says, 'c Varium
et 111utabile selnper fæmilla," he both sets before his
readers what he lneans to be a general trutb, and at the
same time applies it individually to t.be instance of Dido.
He eXpl'e
SèS at once a notion and a fact.
or these two moùes of apprehending propositions,
notional and real, real js the stronger; I mean by
stronger the more vivid alid forcible. It is so to be
accounted for the .ery rea50n that it is concerned with

12
1Io(lcs Of aþþrehellrllllg Proþositions.

wbat is either rpa,l or is taken for real; for intellectual
ideas cannot compete in effectiveness with thp expe-
rience of concrete facts. Various proverbs and maxims
sanction me in so speaking, such as, ":Pacts art:'
stubborn things," "Experientia docet," "
eeing is
believlLg;" and the popular contra
t between theory
and practice, reason and
igllt, philosophy and faith.
Not that real apprehension, as such, irnpels to action,
any n101'e than notional; but it excites and stimulates
tl1e affections and pas
ions, by bringing facts home
to thell1 as 1l10tive causes. rrhus it indirectly brings
about \vhat the apprehension of large principles, of
general laws, or of moral obligations, never could
effect.

Reverting to the two lllodes of holding propositions,
conditional and unconditional, which \ya
the subject of
the former Section, that is, inference
and assents, I
observe that inferences, which are conùitional acts, are
especially cognate to notional apprehension, and assents,
'which are unconditional, to real. This distiuction, too,
,vill come before us in the course of the followina
o
cha pters.
And now I have stated the main subjects of \vhich I
propose to treat; viz. the distinctions in the u\;\e of
propositions, which I have been drawing out, and the
questions which those distinctions illvolv
.

CHAprrER II.

ASSENT CO
SIDERED AS APPREHENSIVE.

I HAVE already said of an act of Assent, first, that it is
in itself the absolute acceptance of a proposition without
any condition; and next that, in order to its being made,
it presupposes the condition, not only of some previous
inference in favour of the proposition, but especially of
some concomitant apprehension of its terms. I proceed
to the latter of these two subjects; that is, of Assent
considered as apprehensive, leaving the discussion of
Assent as unconditional for a later place in this Essay.
By apprehension of a proposition, I mean, as I have
already said, the interpretation given to the terms of
which it is composed. \Vhen we infer, we consider a
proposition in rt'lation to other propositions; when we
assent to it, we consider it for its own sake and in its
intrinsic sense. That sense must be in some degree
known to us; else, we do but assert the propositiun,
we in no wi
e assent to it. Assent I have described
to be a mental as
ertion; in it
very nature then it i

of the mind, and not of the lips. 1Ve can assert with-
out aBsenting; assent is more than assertion just by
this n1ucL, that it is accompanied by some apprehpn-

'4 /lsseJ/t c01lsiderelf as aPþrehensive.

sion of the Inatter asserted. This is plain; and the only
question is, ,vhat measure of apprehension is sufficient.
And the answer to this question is equally plai? :-
it is the predicate of the proposition ,vhich must be ap-
prehended. In a proposition one term is predicated of
another; the subject is referred to the preùicate, and the
predicate gives us informatiðnabout thesubject ;-there-
fore to apprehend the proposition is to have that infor-
mation, and to assent to it is to acquiesce in it as true.
Therefore I apprehend a proposition, ,vhen I apprehend
its predicate. The subject itself need not be apprehended
per
'ie in order to a genuine assent: for it is th
very
thing \vhich the predicate has to elucidate, anll therefore
by its formal place in the proposition, so far as it is the
subject, it is something unknown, something which the
predicate makes known; but the predicate cannot make
it known, unless it is known itself. Let the question
be, "'Vhat is Trade?" here is a distinct profession of
ignorance about "rrrade;JJ and let the answer be,
"Trade is the interchange of goods ;"-trade then need
not be known, as a condition of assent to the proposi-
tion, except so far as the account of it ,vhich is given in
answer, "the interchange of goods," makes it known;
and that must be apprehendJd in order to make it
known. The very drift of the proposition is to tell us
something about the subject; but there is no reason
why our knowledge of the subject, whatever it is, should
go beyond what the predicate tells us about it. Further
than this the subject need not be apprehended: as far
as this it must; it will not be apprehended thus far,
unless we apprehend the predicate

Assent considered as aPþrehensz've. 15

If fI child asks, " vVhat is Lucern ? " and is answered,
lC Lucern is medica-go sativa, of the class Diadelphia
and order Decandria;" and henceforth says obediently,
Co Lucern is medicago sativa, &c.," he makes no act of
assent to the proposition which he enunciates, but
speaks like a parrot. But, if he is told, " Lucern is food
for cattle," and is shown cows grazing in a meadow,
then, though he never sa \v lucern, and knows nothing
at all about it, besides what he has learned from the
predicate, he is in a position to make as genuine an
assent to the proposition" Lucern is food for cattle,"
on the worù of his informant, as if he knew ever
o
much more about lucerne And as soon as he has got
as far as this, he may go further. He now knows
enough about lucern, to enable him to apprehend pro-
positions which have lucern :for their predicate, should
they come before him for assent, as, "That field is sown
with lucern," or " Clover is not lucern."
Yet there is a way, in which the child can give an
indirect assent even to a proposition, in which he under-
stood neither subject nor predicate. He cannot indeed
in that case assent to the proposition itself, but he can
assent to its truth. He cannot do more than assert that
" Lucern is medica go sativa," but he can assent to the
proposition, "That lucern is medicago sativa is true."
For here is a predicate which he sufficiently apprehends,
what is inapprehensible in the proposition beingconß.ned
to the subject. Thus the child's mother might teach
him to repeat a passage of Shakespeare, and when he
asked the meaning of a particular line, such as " The
quality of mercy is not strained," or "Virtue itself

16 Asscnt considered as aþþreheJlsi,/e.

turns vice, being misapplied," she might answer him,
that he ,vas too young to understand it yet, but that
it had a beautiful meaning, as he would one l1ay know:
and he, in faith on her word, rllight give his assent to
such a proposition,-llot, that 1S, to the line itself which
he had got by heart, and ,vhich ,vould be beyond him,
but to its being true, be.autiful, and good.
Of course I am speaking of assen t itself, and its in-
trinsic conditions, not of the ground or 1110tive of it.
"\Vhether there is an obligation upon thp child to trust
his mother, or 'v hether there are cases where such trust
is ilnpossible, are irre]e,-allt que
tions, and I notice
them in order to put them aside. I am examining the
act of a.ssent itself, not its preliminaries, and I have
specifieà three directions, wl1ich among others the
assent luay take, viz. a
sent immediately to a proposi-
tion itself, assent to its truth, and assent both to its
truth and to the ground of its being true,-" I.Jucern
is food for cattle,"-" That lucern is medicago sativa
is true,"-and " 1\Iy lnother's ,vord, that lucern is mcdi-
cago sativa, and is food for cattle, is the truth." K ow
in each of these there is one and the same absolute ad-
hesion of the mind to the proposition, on the part of the
child; he assents to the apprehensible proposition, and
to the truth of the inapprehensible, and to the veracity
ùf his mother in her assertion of the inapprehensible.
1 sa.y the san1e absolute aùhesion, because unleRs he did
assent,vithout anyre
erve to the proposition that ]ucerD
'vas food for cattle, or to the accuracy of tbe botanical
nalne and description of it, he would not be giving an
unreserved assent to his Inother's "
ord: yet, though

Assent cOllsidered as aþþrelzensive. 17

these assents are aU unreserved, still they certainly differ
in strength, and this is the next point to which I wish
to dra\v attention. It is indeed plain, that, though the
child R!'\sents to his mother's veracity, without perhaps
being conscious of his own act, nevertheless that par-
ticular assent of his has a fOi"ce and lifé in it which the
other assent.s have not, insomuch as he apprehends the
proposition, which is the subject of it, with greater
keenness and energy than belongs to his apprehension
of the others. Her veracity and authority is to him no
abstract truth or item of general knowledge, but is
bound up with that image and love of her person which
is part of himself, and makes a direct claim on him for
his summary assent to her general teachings.
Accordingly, by reason of this circumstance of his
apprehension he would not hesitate to say, did his years
admit of it, that he would lay down his life in defence
of his mother's veracity. On the other haud, he ,vould
not makp such a profession in the case of the proposi-
tions, "Lucern is food for cattle," or "That lucern is
medicago sativa is true j" and yet it is clear too, that,
if he did in truth assent to these propositions, he ,vould
have to die for them also, rather than deny them, ,vhen
it came to the point, unless he made up his n1Ïnd to
tell a falsehood. That he would have to die for aU
three propositions severally rather than deny them,
shows the completeness and absoluteness of assent in its
very nature j that he ,vould not. spontaneously challenge
so severe a trial in the case of two out of the three
particular acts of assent, illustrates in what sense one
assent may be stronger than another.

a

18 A sseJlt considered as aþþrehensive.

It appears then, that, in assenting to propositions)
an apprehension in some sense of their terlllS is not
only nc
essary to assent, as such, but also gives a
distinct character to its acts. If therefore we ,voulò
know more about Assent, we must kno,v Inore ahout
the a.pprehension which accompanies it. Accordingly
to the subject of A_pprehell
ion I proceed.

CHAPTER III.

THE APPREHENSION OF PROPOSITIONS,.

I HAVE said in these Introductory Chapters that there
can be no as:5ent to a proposition, without some sort of
apprehension of its terms; next that there are two modes
of apprehension, notional and real; thirdly, that, ,vhile
a
sen t may be given to a proposition Oll either appre-
hension of it, still its acts are elicited more heartily and
forcibly, ,vhen they are made upon real apprehension
which has things for its objects, than ,vhen they are
lnade in favour of notions ana with a notional apprehen-
SIon. The first of these three points [ have just been
discussing; now I will proceed to the second, viz. the
two modes of apprehending propositions, leaving the
third for the Chapters which follo,v.
I have used the word app1.ehen.çioll, and not under-
standing, because the latter word is of uncertain mean-
ing, standing sometinles for the faculty or act of
conceiving a proposition, sometimes for that of com-
prehending it, neither of which come into the sense of
app1.ehen.r;ion. It is possible to apprehend ,vithout un-
derstanding. I apprehend ,vhat is meant by saying
that John i
Richard's wife's father',:; aunt's husÌJand,
C 2

20 The aþþrehellsl:01l ojlJropositiolZs.

but, if I am unable so to take in these successive rela-
tionships as to understand the upshot of the ,vhole, viz.
that John is great-uncle-in-Iaw to Richard, I cannot be
said to understand the proposition. In like nlanner, I
may take a just view of a man's conduct, and therefore
apprehend it, and yet may profess that I cannot under-
stand it; that is, I have not the key to it, and do not
see its consistency in detail: I have no just conception
of it. Åpprehension then is silnply an intelligent ac-
ceptance of the idea, or of the fact which a proposition
enunciates. "Pride will have a fall ;" "Napoleon died
at St. Helena;" I have no difficulty in entering into
the sentÏ1nent contained in the former of these, or into
the fact declared in the latter; that is, I apprehend
thelll both.
Now apprehension, as I have said, has t\VO subject-
matters :-according as language expresses things ex-
ternal to us, or our own thoughts, so is apprel1ension
real or notional. It is notional in the grammarian, it
is real in the experimentalist. The grammarian has to
determine the force of words and phrases; he has to
master the structure of sentences and the composi tion of
paragraphs; he has to compare language with language,
to ascertain the common ideas expressed under different
idiomatic forms, and to achieve the difficult work of re-
casting the mind of the original author in the mould of
a translation. On the other hand, the philosopher or
experimentalist aims at investigating, questioning, as-
certaining facts, causes, effects, actions, qualities: these
are things, and he makes his words distinctly subordi-
nate to these, as means to an end. The primary duty of

The aþþrehelZsioll of Proþositions. 2 I

a. literary man is to have clear conceptions, and to be
exact and intelligible in expressing them; but in a
philosopher it is a merit even to be not utterly vague,
inchoate and obscure in his teaching, and if he fails
even of this lo\v standard of language, we relnind
ourselves that his obscurity perhaps is owing to his
depth. No power of words in a lecturer would be suffi-
cient to make psychology easy to his hearers; if they
are to profit by him, they must thro\v their minds into
the matters in discussion, must accompany his treatment
of them with an active, personal concurrence, and inter-
pret for themselves, as he proceeds, the dim suggestions
and adumbrations of objects, \vhich he has a right to
presuppose, while he uses them, as images existing in
their apprehension as ,veIl as in his own.
In sornething of a parallel way it is the least pardon-
able fault in an Orator to fail in clearness of style, and
the most pardonable fault of ß Poet.
So again, an Economist is dealing with facts; what-
ever there is of theory in his work professes to be
founded on facts, by facts alone must his sense be inter-
preted, and to those only who are well furnished with
the necessary facts does he address himself; yet a clever
schoolboy, from a thorough grammat.ical knowledge of
both languages, n1ight turn into English a French trea-
tise on national \vealtb, produce, consumption, labour,
profits, measures of value, public debt, and the circu-
lating medium, 'with an apprehension of what it "Tas
that his author ,vas stating sufficient for making it clear
to an English reader, ,vhile he had not the faintest con-
ception Lilllself \vhat the treatise, which he was trans-

22 The aþþrelleUsio1t of Propositiolls.

lating, re
l1y determined. The Inan uses language as
\he vehicle of things, and the boy of abstractions.
Hence in literary eX:lluinations, it is a. test of good
scholar'ship to be able to COll
tl"ne aright, \vithout the
aid of understanding the sentirnent, action, or historical
occurrence conveyed in the passage t.hus accurately ren-
dered, let it be a battle in Livy, or some subtle train of
thought in Virgil or Pindar. And those ,vho have
acquitted thenJselves best in the trial, ,vill often be dis-
rosed to think they have most notably failed, for the
very reason that they have been too busy with the gl"aln-
mar of each sentence, as it came, to have been able, as
they construed on, to enter into tbe facts or the feelings,
which, unknown to thelllseives, they were bringing out
of it.
rro take a very different instance of this contra
t be-
t,veen notions and facts ;-pathology and medicine, in
the interests of science, and as a protection to the prac-
titioner, veil the shocking realities of disease and physical
suffering under a notional phraseology, undertheab:::;tract
terms of debility, distress, irritability, paroxysm, and a
host of Greek and Latin ,vords. The arts of medicine
and surgery are necessarily experinlental; but for
,vriting and conversing on these subjects they require
to be stripped of the association of the facts from ,vhich
they are derived.
Such are the two moòes of apprehension. The terlns
of a proposition do or do not stand for things. If they
do, then they are singular terms, for all things that are,
are units. But if they do not stand for things they lnust
stand for notiún
, alid are common terms. Singular

The aPþrehension o.i/" ProþositZ:01ZS.

2")
..)

nouns con1e :frOtH experience, common :from abstraction.
The apprehension of the forIner I call real, and of the
latte)" notional. Now let us look at this difference
between them more narro\vly.
1. Real ...1.pprehension, is, as I have said, in the first
instuncean expC'rienceol' iníol"mationabout tbeconcrete.
Now, when these inforlnations are in fact presented to
us, (that is, ,,-hen they are directly subjected to our
bodily senses or our mental sensations, as when we say,
" The SUll shines," or" The prospect is Cbal'lning," or
indirectly by n1eans of a picture or even a narrative,)
then there is no difficulty in deterrnining 'what is nleallt
by saying that our enunciation of a proposition concern-
ing them implies an apprehension of things; Lecause
\ve can actually point out the objects 'which they
indicate. But supposing those things are no longer
before us, supposing they have passed beyond our field
of vie\v, or tI1e hook is closed in which the description of
then1 occurs, how can an apprehension of thing
be said
to remain to us ? Yes, it relnaills on our n1Ìnàs by lneans
of the faculty of memory. 1Iernory consists in a present
inlaginatiol1 of things that are past; n1en1ory retains
the inlpressions and likenesses of \vhat they were when
before us; aud when we make use of the proposition
,vhich refers to then1, it supplies us ,,,ith objects by
which to interpret it. They arA t1lings still, as being
the reflections of things in a mental mirror.
Hence the poet calls nlernory "the Inind's eye." I
am in a fcreign country anlong unfalniliar sights; at
,vill I am able to conjure up before rue the vision of my
hOJue, and all that bp
ODgS to it, its rooms and their fur-

24 The aþþre!t{;'Jlsioll of Proþositiolls.

niture, its books, its in mates, their countenances, looks
and movements. I see those \vho once were there and
are no more j past scenes, and the very expres3ion of the
features, and the tones of the voices, of those who took
part in them, in a time of trial or difficulty. I create
nothing; I see the facsimiles of facts; and of these
facsimiles the words and propositions ,,-h1ch I use
concerning them are from habitual association the
proper or the sole expression.
And so again, I may have seen a celebrated painting,
or some great pageant, or some public man; and I have
on my memory stored up and ready at hand, but latent,
an irnpress more or less distinct of that experience. The
words "the 1tladonna di S. Sisto," or " the last Corona-
tion," or "the Duke of \Vellington," have power to
revive that in1pres
of it. l\Iemory Las to d0 with indi-
vidual things and nothing that is not individual. And
my apprehension of its notices is conveyed ill a collec-
tion of singular and real propositions.
I have hitherto been adducing instances from (for the
most part) objects of sight j but the meillory preserves
the impress, though not so vivid, of the experiences
which come to us through our other senses also. The
memory of a beautiful air, or the scent of a particular
flo\ver, aR far as any renlembrance remains of it, is the
continued presence in our minds of fi likeness of it, ",'hich
its actual presence has left there. I can bring before
me the tnusic of the Adeste PirZeles, as if I were actually
hearing it; and the scent of a clen1atis as if I \vere in
my garden; and the flavour of a peach as if it were in
season; and the thought I have of all these is as of some-

The aþþrehension, of Proþositlons. 25

thing individual and from ,vithout,-as n1uch as the
things themselves, the tune, the scent, and the flavour,
are from ,vithout,-though, compared ,vith the thing's
themselves, these images (as they may be calleJ) are
faint and interluitting.
N or need such an image be in any sense an abstrac-
tion; though I may bave eaten a hundred peaches
in times past, the impression, which remains on my
memory of the flavour, n1ay be of any of them, of the
ten, twenty, thirty units, as the case may be, not a
general notion, distInct from everyone of them, and
formed from all of them by a fabrication of my mind.
And so again the apprehension ,vhich we have of our
past mental acts of any kind, of hope, inquiry, effort,
triun1ph, disappointment, suspicion, hatred, and a hun-
dred others, is an apprehension of the men10ry of those
definite acts, and therefore an apprehension of things;
Hot to say that lDany of them do not need memory, but
are such as admit of being actually sumn10ned and re-
peated at our ,viII. Such an apprehension again is
elicited by proposi tiolls embodying the notices of our
history, of our pursuits and their results, of our friends,
of our bereavements, of our illnesses, of our fortunes.
which remain illl printed upon our memory as sharply
and deeply as is any recollection of sight. Nay, and
sllch recollections lllay have in thew an individuality and
cOlnpleteoess which outlives the irnpressiol1s made by
sensible objects. The memory of countenances and of
places in times past may fade away froln the mind; but
the vivid image of certain anxieties or deliverances never.
And by means of these particular au'} personal expe-

26 7lze aþpreheJlsioJl of Proþositiolls.

rience
, thus iIllpl'essed upon us, we attain an apprehen-
sion of what such things are at other tinles .when we
have not experience of thenl; an apprehen
ion of sights
and sounds, of colours and fornH
, of places and pcr
on
,
of Il1ental acts and state
, parallel to our actual expe-
riences, such, that, when we nleet with definite propo
i-
tions eÀpressive of them, oùr apprehcnsion cannot be
called abstract and notional. If I am told" there is a
r'lo.in 0' fire in London" or" Lúndon is on fire" "fire"
(.0 0' ,
need not be a COlnmon noun in ll1Y apprehension InorA
than" London." rl'he word n1ay recall to nlY menlory
the experience of a fh.e which I have known clse,vhere,
or of some vivid description which I have read. It is of
course difficult to draw the line and to say where the
office of 111emory ends, and ,yhere abstraction take
it

place; and again, as I said in my first pages, the same
proposition is to one man an image, to another a notion;
but still there is a host of pretlicate:5, of the IJlOst various
kinds, "lovely," "vulgar," "a conceitc(l lHan,"":L
n1anufactnring town," " a catastrophe," ana any num-
ber of others, which, though as prt.tlicatcs they ,voulù
be accounted common nouns, are in fact in the Inouths
of particular persons singular, as cOllveying iIllage
uf
things individual, as the rustic in \
irgil says,-

"Urbem, quam dicunt ltomam, :\fdihæe, puta\"i,
Stultus ego, huic llostræ similem."

And so the child'
idea of a king, as derived fronl his
picture-book, will be that of a fierce or stern or Yener-
able man, seated above a flight of steps, with a crown on
his head and a sceptr3 in his han(1. In thc::;e two in-
stances indeed the experience does but mislead, ,vhen

The aþþrehellsz"oll of Proþositions. 27

&pplied to the unknown; but it often bappens on the
contrary, that it is a serviceable help, especia1Jy when a
man has large experiencps and has learned to distinguish
bebvt->ell thell1 and apply them duly, as in the instance
of tbe hero "who knew many cities of men and many
In i n rls."
Ii'urther, ,ve are able by an inventive faculty, or, as
I Inay ca1l it, the faculty of conlposition, to follo,v the
descri{?tions of things which bave never come before
us, and to fornl, out of such passive inlpressions as ex-
periellce has heretofore left on our 11linds, new iInages,
which, though Iuental creations, are in no sense abstrac-
tions, and though ideal, are not notional. They are
concrete units in the n1Ïllds both of the party descrihing
and the party informed of them. Thus I n1ay never
have seen a palIn or a banana, but I have conversed
,vith those who have, or I have reaJ graphic accounts
of it, and, frorn Iny o,vn previous Kllo,vlel1ge of other
trees, have been able with so ready an intelligence to
interpret their language, and to light up such an ilnage
of it in HJY thougbts, that, were it not that I never was
in the countries ,vhere the tree is found, I should fancy
that I had actual1y seen it. Hence again iû is t he very
praise we give to the characters of some great poet or
historian that he is so individual. I aUl able as it
,vere to gaze on Tiberius, as Tacit'ls draws him, and to
figul'P to Tnyself our J
llnes the Fir8t, as he is painted
in Scott's !{omance. The assas
ination of Cæsar, his
" Et tu, Brute
" his collecting his robes about him,
and his fall under Po!npey's statue, all this beco111es a
fact to Jne and an object of real apprehension. Thus

28 The aþþrellc1lSioll of Proþositions.

it is that we live in the past and in the distant; by
means of our capacity of interpreting the statelnents of
others about former ages or foreign climes by the lights
of our own experience. The picture, which historians
are able to bring before us, of Cæsar's death, derives
its vividness and effect from its virtual appeal to the
.
variou
images of Ollr memory.
This facnIty of composition is of course a step be)90nd
experience, but we have now reached its furthest point;
it is nlainly lin1ited as regards its materials, by the sense
of sight. As regards the other senses, new images can-
not well be elicited and shaped out of old experiences.
No description, however c0111plete, could convey to my
lnind an exact likeness of a tune or an harmony, which
I have never heard; and still less of a scent, which I
have never smelt. Generic reselublances and meta-
phorical substitutes are indeed producible; but I should
not acquire any real know ledge of the Scotch air
"There's nae luck" by being told it was like " Auld
lang syne,n or "Rohin Gray;,t and if I
aid that
}.lozart's melodies ,vere as a SUll1nler sky or as the
breath of Zephyr, I should be better understood by
those 'who knew
rozart than by those who did not.
Such vngue illustrations suggest intellectual notions,
not iilln ges.
And quite as difficult is it to create or to apprehend
by description images of mental facts, of \vhich ,ve
have no direct experience. I may indeed, as I hav'e
already s3.id, bring home to illY mind so complex a fact
as an historical character, by composition out of my
experiences about character generally; Tiberius..J ames

The aþþrehellsio1l of Proþositions. 29

the First, Louis the Eleventh, or Napoleon; but who
is able to infuse into me} or how shall I imbibe, a sense
of the peculiarities of the style of Cicero or Virgil, if
I have not read their writings? 01" how shall I gain a
shadow of a perception of the wit or the grace ascribed
to the conversation of the French salons, being nlyself
an untravelled John Bull? And so again, as regards
the affections and passions of our nature, they are sui
generis respectively, and incommensurable, and must be
severally experienced in order to be apprehended really.
I can understand the 'i"abbia of a native of Soutltern
Europe, if I am of a passionate tenlper myself; and
the taste for speculation or betting found in great
traders or on the turf, if I am fond of enterprise or
games of chance; but on the other hand, not all the
possible descriptions of headlong love will make me
comprehend the delirÍlun, if I never have had a fit of
it; nor will ever so nlany sermons about the inward
satisfaction of strict conscientiousness create in my
ll1ind the Ï1nage of a virtuous action and its attendant
sentiments, if I have been brought up to lie, thieve
and indulge Iny appetites. 'rhus we meet with men of
the world who cannot enter into the very idea of devo-
tion, and think, for instance, that, from the nature of
the case, a life of religious seclusion must be either
one of unutterable dreariness or a bandoned sensuality,
because they know of no exercise of the affections but
what is nlerely hunlan; and with others again, ,vho,
living in the home of their own selfishness, ridicu]e
as bomething fanatical and pitiable the self-sacrifices
of generous high-mindedness and chivalrous honour.

30 The aþþrehension of Proþositions.

Thpy cannot create inlages of these things, any rnore
than children on the contrary can of vice, when they
ask ,vhereabouts and ,vho the bad men are; for they
have no personal 111enl0ries, and have to content thelU-
selves ,vith notions drawn from books or from ,vhat
others tell them.
So much on the apprehension of things and on the
real in our use of language; now let us pass on to
the notional sense.
2. Experience tells us only of individual thiug:.;, and
these things are innumerable. Our n1Ïnds n1Ïgllt Ita ve
been so constructed as to be able to receive and retain
an exact image of each of these various objects, one by
one, as it came before us, but only in and for itself,
without the power of cOlllparing it with any of the
others. But this is not our ca8e: on the contrary, to
conlpare and to con trast are anlong the 1110St pronlincnt
and busy of our intellectual fUllctions. Instinctively,
even though unconsciously, ,ve arc ever instituting
cOlnparisons between the ma.nifuld phenomena of the
external world, as we nleet with them, criticizing, re-
ferring to a standard, collecting', analysing them. Nay,
as if by one and the same action, as soon as we perceive
them, we also perceive that tht yare like each other or
unlike, or rather both like and unlike at once. "\Ve
apprehend spontaneously, even before ,ve set about
apprehending, that man is like luan, yet unlike: and
unlike a horse, a tree, a mountain, or a monument, yet
in some, though not the same respects, like each of
them. And in consequence, as I have said, ,ve are ever
grouping and discriminating, measuring and sounding,

The apprehension oj Proþositions. 3 I

framing cross cla
ses and cross divisions, and thereby
rising froln particulars to generals, that is from images
to notions.
!n processes of this kind we regard things, not as
they are in theulselves, but mainly as they stand in
relation to each other. 'Ve look at nothing simply
for its own sake; we cannot look at anyone thing
without keeping our eyes on a multitude of other
thing
be
ides. "
Ian JJ is no longer ,vhat he really
is, an individual presented to us by our senses
but as
we reaù him in the light of those comparisons and
contrasts ,vhicb we have lnade him suggest to us. He
is attenuated into an aspect, or relegateù to his place
in a c1assification. Thus his appellation is lnade to
suggest, not the real bcing which he is in this or that
specimen of himseìf, but a definition. If I nlight use
a harsh metaphor, I should say he is made the loga-
rithln of his true self, and in tha
shape is worked
with the ease and satisfaction of logarithms.
It i
plain what a different sense language win bear
in this s\'stenl of intellectual notions fronl ,vhat it has
01
wben it is the representative of thing-s : and such a
use of it is not only the very foundatIon of all science,
but may be, and is, carried out in literature aud in the
ordinary intercourse of man with man. And thus it
comes to pass that individual propositions about the
concrete almost cease to be, and are diluted or starved
into abstract notions. The events of history and the
characters who figure in it lose their individuality.
States and governments, society and its component
parts, cities, uations, even the physical face of the

3 2 The aþþrehells'ioll of Proþositiolls.

country, things past, and things contemporary, all tbat
fulness of meaning \vhich I have described as accruing
to language fronl experience, now that experience is
absent, necessarily becomes to the lllultitude of men
nothing but a heap of notions, little more intelligible
than the beauties of a prospect to the short-sighted,
or tIle lllusic of a great nla
ter to a listener ,vho has
no par.
I suppose most men will recol1ect in their past years
how nlany luistakes they have Inade about persons,
parties, local occurrences, nations and the like, of
which at the tiDle they had no actual knowledge of
their own: how ashanled or ho\v amused they have
since been at their own gratuitous idealism when they
came into possession of the real facts concerning them.
They were accustomed to treat the definite Titus or
Sempronius as the q1ddam horno, the individ1lUl1

vagurn of the logician. FJ..'hey spoke of his opinions,
his motives, his practices, as their traditional rule for
the species Titus or Sempronius enjoined. In order to
find out what individual men in flesh and blood ,yore,
they fancied that they had nothing to do but to refer
to conlmonplaces, 3lphabetically arranged. Thus they
were ,veIl up with the charactJr of a Whig statesman
or Tory magnate, a Wesleyau, a Congregationalist, a
parson, a priest, a philanthropist, a writerof controversy,
a sceptic; and found themselves prepared, without the
trouble of direct inquiry, to dra,v the individual after
the peculiarities of his type. And so with national
character; the late Duke of "\Vellington must have
been impulsive, quarrelsome, witty, clever at repartee,

The apprehcnsioJl of Proþositions 33

fur hp \\ as au Irishnlan; in like Ulanner, ,ve must have
cold and selfish Scots, crafty Italians, vulgar Americans,
'lud Frenchmen} half tiger, half monkey. As to the
French, those who are old enough to recollect the
,yars with Napoleon, know ,vhat eccentric notions ,vere
popularly entertained about them in England j how it
was even a surprise to find some military man, who
,vas a prisoner of war, to be tall and stout, because it
was a received idEa that all Frenchmen were under-
sized and lived on frogs.
Such again are the ideal personages \vho figure in
romances and dranlas of the old school; tyrants, monks,
cru
aders} princes in disguise, and captive damsels; or
benevolent or angry fathers, and spendthrift heirs; like
tbe sYlubolical characters in some of Shakespeare's
plays, " a Tapster," or "a LOI'd )Iayor," or in the stage
direction" Enter two murderers."
'Vhat I have been illustrating in the case of persons,
might be instanced in regard to places, transactions
,
phy
ical calamities, events in history. '-tV ords which
are used by an eye-witness to express things, unless
he be especially eloquent or graphic, may only convey
general notions. Such is, and ever must be, the popular
and ordinary Inode of apprehending language. On
only few subjects have any of us the opportunity of
realizing in our minds what we speak and hear about;
and \ve fancy that we are doing justice to individual
Inen and things by making thenl a mere synthesis of
qualities, as if any nUlnber whatever of abstractions
wouìJ, by being fused togetber, be equivalent to one
conC'rete

D

34 'lite ajJþrcncllsioll of ProþosztiOJts.

Here then \ve h:l\?e two InOò.0s of thought, both using
the
alne \vords, both having one origin,yet with nothing
in COlnlnon in their results. The informations of sense
and sensation are the initial ùasis of both of then1; but
in the one \ve take hold of objects from within them, and
in the other we view them from outside of them; \ve
perpetuate tI1em as image in the one case, ,ve transform
them into notions in the other. _\.nd natural to us as
are both processes in their first elelnents and in their
growth, however divergent and iudependpnt in their
direction, they cannot really be inconsistent with each
other; yet no one from the sight of a horse or a dog
\vould be able to anticipate its zoological ùefinition, nor
from a knowledge of its definition to draw such a picture
as \vould direct the eye to the living speciulen.
Each use of propositions has its own excellence aud

erviceableness, and each has its own Ï1npel'f(\ction. To
apprehend notionally is to have breadth of luind, but to
be shallow; to apprehend really is to be deep, but to be
narrow-lninded. The latter is the conservative principle
of knowledge, and the forlnerthe principle of its advance-
ment. \'Tithout the apprehension of notions, ,ve should
for ever pace round one sll1all circle of knowledge;
,vithout a fil'n1 hold upon t1lings, \ve shall waste our-
selves in vague speculation.;. lIowever, real apprehen-
sion has the precedence, as being the scope and end
and the test of notional; and the fuller is the mind's
hold upon things or what it considers such, the more
fertile is it in its aspects of them, and the more prac-
tical in its definitions.
Of course.. as these two are not inconsistent with each

The apprehc1lsioll qf Proþositiolls. 35

other, they may co-exist in the same mind. Indeed
there is no one who does not to a certain extent exerci
e
both the one and the other. Viewed in relation to
A.sscnt, \vhich has led to rny speaking of them, they do
not in any way affect the nature of Assent itselt
w'hich
is in all cases absolute and unconditional; but they
give it an external character corresponding respectively
to their o,vn: so n1uch so, that at first sight it might
seeln as if Assent adn1itted of degrees, on account of
the variation of vividness in these different apprehen-
SIons. As notions come of abstractions, so images come
of experiences; the ll10re fully the mind is occupied by
an experience, the keener will be its assent to it. if it
assents, and on the othe1' band, the duller will be its
assent and the less operative, the more it is engaged
,vith an abstraction; and thus a scale of assents is
conceivable, either in the instance of one mind upon
different subjects, or of many 111Índs upon one subject,
varying fron1 an assent which looks like mere inference
up to a belief both intense and practical,-from the
acceptance w bicb we accord to some accidental news
of the. day to the supernatural dogmatic faith of the
Christian.
It foHows to treat of Assent under this double aspect
of its subject-matterJ-assent to notions} and assent to
things.

))2

.

CHAPTER IV-.

NOTION"AIJ AND REAL ASSE
T.

1. I HAVE said that our apprehension of a proposition
varies in strengtb, and that it is stronger when it is
concerned with a proposition expres
ive to us of things
than when concerned with a proposition expressive of
notions; and I have given this reaSon for it, viz. that
what is concrete exerts a force and n1akes an inlpression
on the mind which nothing abstract can rival. That
is, I have argued that, because the object is more
powerful, therefore so is the apprehension of it.
I do not think it unfair reasoning thus to take tbe
apprehension for its object. The n1Ïnd is ever stimulated
in proportion to the cause stimulating it. Sights, for
instance, sway us, as scents do not; w'hether this be
owing to a greater power in the thing seen, or to a
greater receptivity and e:x:pansiveness in the sense of
seeing, is a superfluous question. The strong object
would Inake the apprehension strong. Our sense of
seeing is able to open to its object, as our sense of sn1c11
cannot open to its own. Its objects are able to awaken
the luinù, take posses
ion of it, inspire it, act through it,

.J.VolioJlal and l?eal Assent.

37

with
n energy and variousness which is not found in
the case of scents and their apprehension. Since we
cannot draw the line between the object and the act, I
am at liberty to say, as I have said, that, as is the thing
apprehended, so is the apprehension.
And so in like manner as regards apprehension of
mental objects. If an image derived frorn experience or
information is stronger than an abstraction, conception,
or conclusion-if I am more arrested by our Lord's
bearing before Pilate and Herod than by the" J ustum et
tenacem " &c. of the poet, more arrested by His Voice
saying to us, " Give to him that asketh thee," than by
the best arguments of the Economist against indiscrimi-
nate almsgiving, it does not matter for my present
purpose whether the objects give strength to the
apprehension or the apprehension gives large admit-
tance into the mind to the object. It is in hunlan
nature to be more affected by the concrete than by the
abstract j it may be the reverse with other beings.
The apprehension, then, nlay be as fairly said to possess
the force which acts upon us, as the object apprehended.
2. Real apprehension, then, may be pronounced
stronger than notional, because things, ,vhich are its
objects, are confessedly more impres
ive and affective
than notions, which are the objects of notional. Experi-
ences and their images strike and occupy the mind, a

abstractions and their combinations do not. Next, pass-
ing an to Assent, I observe that it is this variation in
the mind's apprehension of an object to which it
assents, and not any incompleteness in the assent itself,
that leads us to speak of strong and weak assents. as

"8
.J

Notional and Real Assellt.

if Assent itself admitted of degrees. In either mode of
apprehension, be it real or be it notional, the assent
preserves its essential characteristic of being uncondi-
tional. The assent of a Stoic to the " J ustu nl et tella-
cern" &c. may be as genuine an assent, as absolute
and entire, as little admitting of degree or variation, a.s
distinct from an act of inference, as the assent of a
Christian to the history of our Lord's Passion in the
Gospel.
3. Ho,vever, charactC'ristic as it is of Assent, to be
thus in its nature sin1ply one and indivisible, and
thereby essentially different from Inference, which is
ever varying in strength, npver quite at the same pitch
in any two of its acts, still it is at the same time true
that it may be difficult in fact, by external tokens, to
distinguish given acts of assent from given acts of
inference. ':rhus, whereas no one could possibly con-
fuse the real assent öf a Christian to the fact of our
Lord's crucifixion, ,vith the notional acceptance of it, as
a point of history, on the part of a philosophical hea-
tJ1en (so removed from each other, toto cælo, are the
respective modes of apprehending it in the two cases,
though in both the assent is in its nature one and the
same), nevertheless it woul, be easy to mistake the
Stoic's notional assent, genuine though it n1ight be, to
the moral nobleness of the just Juan "struggling in
the storms of fate," for a mere act of inference resulting
from the principles of his Stoical profession, or again
for an assent merely to the inferential necessity of tbe
nobleness of that stt'uggle. Nothing, indeed, is more
common than to praise men for their consistency to

NotioJlal and Real Asscllt.

39

their principles, ,vhatever those principles are, that is,
to praise then1 an an inference, without thereby ÍIllply-
ing any as
ent to the principles thel11selves.
The cause of this resemblance between acts so distinct
is obvious. Hesemblance exists only in cases of notional
assents; ,vhen the asspnt is given to notions, then indeed
it is possible to hesitate in deciding whether it is assent
or inference, whether the mind is merely without doubt
or whether it is actually certain. And the reason is
this: notional ..Assent. seenlS like Inference, because the
apprehension which accompanies acts of Inference is
notional also,-because Inference is engaged for the
most part on notional propositions, both premiss and
conclusion. rrhis point, which I have implied through-
out, I here distinctly record, and shall enlarge upon
hereafter. Only propositions about individuals are not
notional, and these are seldul11 the n1:ttter of inference.
Thus, did the
toic infer thp fact of our Lord'8 death
instead of assenting to it, that propúsition as inferred
would have been as much an abstraction to him as the
" J ustuln," &c. ; nay further, the" Justus et tenax" was
at least a notion in his mind, but " J e
us Christ" would,
in the schooìs of Athens or of ROIne, have stood for less,
for an unknown being, the x or y of a forn1ula. Except
then in SOlne of the cases of singular conclusions, in-
ferences are elnployed on notions, uuless, I say, they are
employed on mere symbols; and, indeed, when they are
symbolical, thcn are they clearest anù n10st
ogellt, as I
shall hereafter show. rfhe uext clearest are such as
carry out the necpssary results of previoIis classifica-
tion
, and therefore llWY be caned definitions or con-

40 1\7otiolL1i L and Rea/' A ssellt.

elusions, as 've please. For instance, having divided
beings into their classes, the definition of nlan is in-
evitable.
4. '-Ve may call it then the normal state of Inference
to apprehend propositions as notions; and we lnay
call it the normal state of ...\..ssellt to apprehend pro-
positions as things. If notional apprehension is most
congenial to Inference, real apprehension will be the
most natural concomitant on Assent. An act of Infe-
rence includes in its object the dependence of its thesis
upon its premisses, that is, npon a relation, ,vhich is
an abstraction; but an act of .Assent rests wholly on
the tl]esis AS its object, and the reality of the thesis is
almost a condition of its unconditionality.
5. I am led on to n]ake one relnark more, and it
shaU be my last.
An act of assent, it seem
, is the most perfect and
highest of its kind, when it is exercised on propositions,
which are apprehended as expL'l'iences and in1ages,
that is, which stand for things; and, on the other hand,
an act of inference is th
most perfect and highest of
Ïis kind, when it is exercised on propositions which
are apprehended a,; notions, that is, \vhich al'e creations
of the mind. ....-'\.n act of infer( nee indeed nlay be lnade
with either of these nlodes of appreheusion; so nlay
an act of assent; but when inferences are exercised on
things, they tend to be conjectures or presentÌlnents,
,vithout logical force; and when assents are exercised
on notions, they tend to be mere assertions without
e.ny personal hold on them on the part of those ,vho
4lake them. If this be so" the paradox is true, that,

l\ToLzo;lal and j(l!at Assent.

4- 1

when Inference is clearest, .dssent may be least forcible,
anù, when Assent is most intense, Inference may be
least distinct ;-for, though acts of assent require pre-
vious acts of inference, they require thenl, not as
adequate causes, but as s.ine qllâ non conditions; and,
while the apprehension strengthens Assent, Inference
often weakens the apprehension.

4 2

.J.\Totlonal.dssclltS.

ç I.
OTICINAI, ASSF.XTS.
I shall consider .....\.ssent 1l1ade to propositions which
exprcss abstractions or notions under five heads; which
I shall call Profession, Credence, Opinion, Presumption,
and Speculation.

1. Pl"ofe8.';
ion
There are assents so feeble and superficial, as to be
little more than assertions. I cla
s theln all tOg'ether
under the head of Profession. Such are tIle as
ents
made upon habit and ,vithont rpflection; as ,yhen a man
calls himselfa '.rory or a Liberal, a
having been brought
up as such j or again, when he aJopts as a mattcr of
course the literary or othcr fashions of the day, admiring
the poeIns, or the novels, or thl music, or the personages,
or the costUl11e, or the wines, or the manners, which
happen to be popular, or are patronized in the higher
circles. Such again are the assents of men of wavering
restless n1inds, ,vho take up and then abandon beliefs
so readily, so suddenly, as to ma
e it appear that they
had no view (as it is called) on tIle matteJ
they pro-
fessed, aud diJ. not know to 'what they assented or why.

p r,
Í-
ssÙ)tJ..

43

Thl\[), again, when men say they have no doubt of a.
thing, this is a case, in \vhich it is difficult to determine
whether they assent to it, infer it, or consider it highly
probable. 'fhel.e are n1any cases, indeed, in \vbich it
is ilnl'ossible to discriminate between assent, inference,
and assertion, on account of the otiose, passive, inchoate
character of the act in question. If I say that to-
mOl ro\v will be fine, what does this enunciation Inean ?
Perhaps it means that it ought to be fine, if the glass
tens truly; then it is the inference of a probability.
Perhaps it Ineans no lllore than a surmise, bpcause it is
fine to-day, or has been so for the ,veek past, And
perhaps it is a compliance ,vith the word of another, in
".hich case it is sometimes a real assent, sometimes a
polite as
ertion or a wish.
}Iany a disciple of a philosophical scbool, ,vho talks
fluently, does but a
sert, ,vhen he seems to assent to the
dicta of his 111aster, little as he may be aware of ÏCi.
K or is he secured against this 8elf-deception by know-
ing the arguments on which those dicta rest, for he may
learn the arguments by heart, as a careless schoolboy
gets up 11is Euclid. This practice of asserting sÏIn ply
on authority, with the pretence and without the reality
of Hssent, is what is Ineant by forn1
lisln. To say" I
do not understand a proposition, but I accept it on
authority," is not furmalisn1, but faith; it is not a direct
assent to the proposition, f::\till it is an assent to the
autilority which enunciatl's it; but ,,
hat I here speak
of is professing to ulldersn.Lnd without understanding.
It is thu::; that political alid religious ,vatch,,
ords are
created; first one ll1an of name and then another

-1-

,VotionaL Assents.

Hlopts thpm, till their nse becomes popular, and then
every one profes
e;:; tbern, because everyone else does.
Such words are "liberalit y " " p ro g -ress " "liO'ht " "civi-
. , 'b ,
lization:" such are" justification by faith only," " vital
religion." "private jndglnellt," " the Bible and nothing
but tbe Bible." Sucb again are " Ra.tionali
nl," " Galli-
canism," "J esuitisln,""Ultralnontanisnl"-all of which,
in the mouths of conscientious thinkers, have a definite
Ineanil1g, but are used by the Inultitude as war-cries,
nicknanles, and shibùuleths, with
carcely enough of the
sca.ntiest gralJlluaticaJ apprehension of them to allow of
their being considered in tru th more than assertions.
rrbus, instances occur now and tben, when, in conse-
qnence of tbe urgency of some fasl1Íonable super
tition
or popular,delusion, some eminent scientific authority is
provoked to COlne forward, and to set the ,vorId right
by his" ipse dixit." He, indeed, hitl1self knows very
well what he is about; he ha
a right to speak, and his
reasonings and conclusions are suffieieut, not only for his
own, but for general assent, and, it Inay be, are as
simply true and impregnable, as they are authoritative;
but an intelligent hold on the matter in di
pute, such as
he has himself, cannot ùe expected in the case of men
in general. rrhey, ne\TertheJe.3s, one and all, repeat and
retail his argulnents, as sudùcnly as if they had not to
study them, as heartily as if they under:,tood them,
changing round and becoming as strong antagonists of
the error which their master has exposed, as if they had
never b
en its advocates. If their word is to be taken,
it is not simply his authority that moves them, which
would be sen
ible enough and suitable in them. both

ProfeSSlOI!' .

45

apprehension and assent being in that case grounded
on the maxinl "Cuique in arte snâ credendum," but so
far forth as they disown this motive, and cJaim to judge
in a scientific question of the worth of arguments which
require son1e real knowledge, they are little better, not
of conrse in a very serious matter, than pretenders and
fOl'Il1alists.
Not only authorIty, but Inference a1so rnay impose on
us assents which in then1selves are little better than as-
sertions, and which, so far a!:) they are assents, can only
be notional assents, as being assents, not to the propo-
sitions inferred, but to tbe truth of those propositions.
For instance, it can be proved by irrefragable calcula-
tion
, that the stars are not less than billions of miles
distant froln the earth; and the process of calculation,
upon which such statements are made, is not so difficult
as to require authority to secure our acceptance of both
it and of them; yet who can say that he has any real,
nay} any notional apprehension of a billion or a trillion?
"... e ('an, indeed, have some notion of it, if we analyze it
into its factors, if we compare it with other DUInbers, or
if we illustrate it by analogies or by its implications;
but I am speaking of the vast Dum bel' in itself. 'Ve
cannot assent to a proposition of which it is the
predicate; we can but assent to the truth of it.
This leads me to the question, whether belief in a
mystery can be more than an assertion. I consider it
can be an assent, and my reasons for saying so are as
follows :-A mystery is a proposition conveying incolll-
patible notions, or is a statelnent of the inconceivable.
Now we can assent to propositions (and a mystery is a

46

Notional Assents.

proposition), proviòed we can apprehend them; therefore
we can assent to a mystery, for, unless we in SOIne sense
apprehended it, we should not recognize it to be a mys-
tery, that is, a stateruent uniting incornpatible notions.
rrhe same act, then, \vhich enables us to discern that the
worùs of the proposition express a mystery, capacitates
us for assenting to it. "r ords which make nonsense, do
not make a mystery. 1\0 one ,vould call \V:'ìrton's line-
"Revolving swans proclairfi the \velkin near "-an
inconceivable assertion. It is equally plain, that the
assent which ,ve give to Inysteries, as I:;uch, is notional
assent; for, by the supposition, it is assent to proposi-
tions ,vhich ,ve cannot conceive, ,vhereas, if we had bad
experience of theIll, we should be able to conceive them,
and without e
pcrience assent is not real.
But the question follows, Can processes of inference

nd in a mystery? that is, not only in ,vhat is incom-
prehensible, that the stars are billions of n1iles from each
other, but in ,vhat is inconceivable, in the co-existence
of (seeming) incompatibilities? For ho\v, it lllay be
...
asked, can reason carry ont notions into their contra-
dictories? since all the developments of a truth must
from the nature of t.he case be consistent both with it
and with each other. I aUfwer, certain]y processes of
inference, however accurate, can end ill mystery; and I
solve the objection to such a doctrine thus :--Ollr notion
of a thing may be only partially faithful to the original;
it may be in excess of the thing, or it lllay represent it
incompletely, and, in con
equence, it n1ay ser\ye for it,
it may stand for it, only to a certain poiut, in certain
cases, but no further. After that point is reached, the

Profess-io 1l.

47

notion and the thing part company; and then the
notion, if still used as the representative of the thing,
will work out conclusions, not inconsistent with itself,
but ,vith the thing to which it no longer corresponds.
This is seen nlost fan1iliarly in the use of rnetapbors.
Thus, in an Oxford satire) which deservedly made a
sensation in its day, it is said that Vice" from its hard-
ness takes a polish too." 1 'Vhence we might argue,
that, whereas Caliban was vicious, he was therefore
polished; but politeness and Caliban are incol11patible
notions. Or again, when some one said, perhaps to Dr.
Johnson, that a certain writer (say Hume) was a clear
thinker, he nlade answer, "...-\.ll shallows are clear."
But supposing Hume to be in fact both a clear ana a
deep thinker, yet supposing clearness and depth are in-
compatible in their literal sense, which the objection
seems to imply, and still in their full literal sense were
to be ascribed to Hurne, then our reasoning about his
intellect has ended in the mystery, "Deep Hume is
shallow;" whereas the contradiction lies, not in the
reasoning, but in the fancying that inadequate notions
can be taken as the exact representations of things.
Hence in science we sometimes use a definition or a
fonnula, not as exact, but as being sufficient for our
purpose, for working out certain conclusions, for a
practical approxilnation, the error being small, till a
certain point is reached. This is what in theological
investigations I should call an economy.
A like contrast between notions and the things which

I If The Oxford Spy/' 1818; by J. S. Boone, p lUl.

4R

N otio1lal A ssellts.

they represpnt is the pri nciple of suspense and curiosity
in those enigmatical sayings which ,vere freqnent in the
early stage of human society. In theln the problem
proposed to the acuteness of the hearers, is to find some
real thing which may unite in itself certain conflicting
notions which in the question are attributed to it: "Out
of the eater came forth Ineat, and out of the strong
came forth sweetness;" or," 'Vhat creature is that,
\vhich in the })lorning goes on four legs, at noon on two,
and on three in the evening?" 'rhe ans\ver, which
nan1es the thing, interprets and thereby limits the
notions under ,vhich it has been represented.
Let us take an example in algebra. Its calculus is
cOIDlnonly used to investigate, not only the relations of
quantity generally, but geometrical facts in particular.
Now it is at once too ,vide and too narrow for such a
purpcse, fitting on to the doctrine of line
and angles
with a bad fit, as the coat of a short and stout man
luight serve the needs of one who was tall and slim.
Certainly it works well for geometrical purposes up to
a certain point, as when it enables us to dispense with
the cunlbrous method of proof in questions of ratio and
prop.ortion, ,vhich is adopted in the fifth book of Euclid ;
but ,vhat are we to make of the fourth power of a,
,vhen it is to be translated into geometrical language ?
If from this algebraical expression we determined that
space adll1itted of four dimensions, we should be
enunciating a lnystery, because we should be applying
to space a notion ,vbich belongs to quantity. In this
case algebra is in excess of geornetrical truth. Now let
us take an instance in which it faUs short of geOll1etry,

Profession.

49

- \Vhat is thé meaning of tho sqnare root of 1ninus n ?
IIero the nlystery is on the side of algebra j and, in
accorùance ,vith the principle which I ar11 illustrating,
it has sometinles been considered as an abortivo effort
to express, what is really beyond the capacity of alge..
braicalllotatioll, the ùirection and position of liucs in
the third dirnension of space, as well as their length
upon a pla.ne. \Vhen t.he calculus is urgod on by the
inevitable course of the working to do what it cannot
do, it stops short as if in resistance, and protests by
an absurdity.
Our notions of things are never sin1ply commensurate
with the things themselves j they are aspects of thein,
more or Jess exact, and sOllletimes a mistake ab initio.
FJ..
ake an instance from arithmetic:- 1V e are accustomed
to subjecb all that exists to numeration; but, to be
correct, we are bound first to reduce to some level of
possible comparison the things ,vhich ,ve ,vish to num-
ber. 1Ve rnnst be able to say, not only that they are ten,
twcnty, or a hundred, but so many definite somethings.
:For instance, we could not without extravagance thro,v
together Napoleon'8 brain, ambition, hand, soul, sUlile,
height, anù age at
Iarengo, and say that there wero
seven of thoIn, though there aro seven words j nor .will
it even be enough to contenb ourselves with what may
be called a ncgative level, viz. that the::;e soven are a
non-existing or a departcd seven. Unless nUll1cration is
to issue in nonsense, it must be conducteù on condi tions.
'fhi:3 being the case, there are, for what we know,
collectious of being
, to ,vhom the notion of nUlllber
cannot be r.ttached, CXc0pt ccda('h ì'cst ical! y, because,

E

50

l\"'otioilal ./1 sse n ts.

taken indivitlual1y, no positi vo point of real agree.
nlent can be found bct,vecn theIn, by \vhich to call
them. If indeed ,YO can denote thelll by n, plural noun,
then ,vo can Incasnre that plurality j but if they agreo
in nothing, they cannot ngrco in bearIng a conl1Hon
!ì:1111C, and to say that they fUnOUllt to a thon
and these
0::''' those, is 1l0t to l1un.ber thcnl
hut to count up a,
certain lluluùer of lUlIues or ,vords whiuh ,ye have
written down.
Thus, the A ngc1s h:lYO hecn consiL1creù by ùivines 1-0
ha\'e each of tùenl a
pecies to hin}s
lf j alId we Inny
fancy each of tùetll so absolutely sui sinâlis as to be
liko nothing el
e, so that it ,vonlll be as untrue to
speak uf a thousand .A.ngc1s fIS ofa thousand Ilannibals
or Ciceros. It ,,'ill be said, illdeed, that all beings but
One at least ,vill COlne unùer the notion of creatl1rc
,
and are depenùent upon that One j but that is true of
the brain, slnile, and height of Napoleon, ,vhich no one
,vould call three creatures. l
llt, if all this be so, luuch
more does it npply to onr speculations concerning the
Suprenlc Being', WhOl11 it may be ufl1l1eaning, not only
to nunlber ,vith other bC
llgS, but to suùject to nnin ùer
in rcgarù to lIis OW11 iutrinsic characteristics. 'fLat
is, to apply arithlnetical nl tiOllS to Hinl may be as un-
philosophical as it is profane.
rhollgh lIe is at onco
}-'ather, Son, and lloly Ghost, the ,yorù "Triuity"
belongs to th(\
e notions ot IIinl \vhich are forcl\d on
us by the necessity of our finite conceptions, the real
and inullutable distinctiun which exists bet,veen Person
anù Person inlplying in iì:::;clf no infl'ingelnent of His
real al1d lluillerical Unity. AnJ if it Le a
kQd how,

/.., ro.fcss/ou.

51

if wo cannot properly speak of IIiln as Three, we can
speak of HÏ1n as Onl', I reply that lIe is not One
in the ,yay in which crea.ted things arc severally units;
for one, as applied to oursel res, i3 used in contrast to
two or three and a ,vhole series of numbers; but of tho
SUpre111e Being it is safer to nse tho ,vord "ll)OnaÙ JJ
than unit, for lIe has not c\-en such rela.tion to IIis
creatures as to aHow, philosophicalJy speaking, of our
contrasting IIiIn with the1n.
Coming back to tho nUlin subject, wl1ich I bave illus-
trated at the risk of Jigression, I observe that an alleged
fact is not therefore impossible because it is incon_
ceivable; for the incompatible notions, in which consists
its inconceivableness, need not each of them reaUy be-
long to it in that fulness which wOlllù involve their beiug
jncolllpatible with each other. It is true indeed that I
Jeny the possibility of two straight lines enclosing a
sp,1ce, on tIle gl'OU11l1 of its being inconceivaùle ; but I
ùo so becau;:.,e a straight line i3 a notion and nothing
1110re, and not a thing to ,vhich I may have attached a
notion more or less unfaithful. I have defined a straight
line in lilY own way at n1Y own pleasure; the ques-
tion is not one of facts at all, but of the consistency
with each other of ùefinitiolls and their logical COllse-
qnel1cc
.
" Space is not infinite, for nothing but the Creator is
snch :" - starti llg frOln this thesis as a theological infor.
nlation to be assulllcd as a fact, though not one of t"'
-
pcrience, we arrive at once at an insoluble mystery; fo1"
jf
pace be not infinite, it is finite, ana finite space is a
contradictiull in notions, sp1.ce, as such, iInplying tho
E 2

52

N otiollal Asscnts.

absence of boundaries. Here again it is our notion that
carries us beyond the fact, and in opposition to it, show-
ing that froln the first ,,-bat we apprehend of spaco
does not in all respects correspond to tho thing, of
,\" hich indeed 'we have no irnage.
rrhis, then, is another instance in 'which the juxta-
position of notions by the logical facu1ty lands us in
'what are cOlnmonly called mysteries. Notions are but
aspects of things; the free deductions from one of these
aspects necessarily contradict the free deductions from
another. After proceeding in our investigations a cer-
tain w'aJ, suddenly a blank or a maze presents itself be-
fore the mental vision, as when the eye is confused by the
varying slides of a telescope. 'l'lnu::, we believe in the
infinitude of the Divine ..Attributes, but ,ve can have no
experience of ilifinituùe as a fact; the w'orù stands for a
ùefinition or a notion. lIence, when ,ye try how to
reconcile in the moral ,yorld the fulness of mercy ,,'ith
exactitude in sanctity and j l1stice, or to explain that
the physical tokens of creative skin Deed not suggest
any ,vant of creative power, ,ve feel ,ve are not masters
of our subject. ,V 0 apprehend sufficiently to be aLlo
to assent to these theological truths as mysteries; did
,ye 110t apprehend them aLl all, ,va F;hould be merely
asserting; though even then ,YO Illig-ht convert that
assertion into an assent, if we wished to do 80, as I
ha.ve already shown, by making it the subject of a
proposition, and predicating of it that: it is true.

CredcJlce.

53

2. 01.edcnce.

'''"hat I mean by giving credence to propositions is
pretty much the same as having "no douùt" about
them. It is the sort of assent which we give to those
opinions and professed facts which are ever presenting
thomselves to us witbout any effort of ours, and which
we comn10nly take for granted, thereby obtaining a
broad foundation of thought for ourselves,ancl a medium
of intercourse betn--een oursel 'les and others. 'fhis form
of notional assent cOlnprises a great variety of subject-
matters; and is, as I have ilnpliecl, of an otiose anù pas-
sive character, accepting whatever COUles to hand, from
,,,hatever quarter, warranted or not, so that it convey
nothing on the face of it to its own dIsadvantage. From
the tirne that we begin to observe, think and reason,7 to
the final failure of onr powers, 'we are ever acquiring
fresh anù fresh informations by means of our senses,
and still more from others and from books. The friends
or stra.ngers whom we fall in with in the course of the
day, the conversations or discussions to which we are
parties, tIle newspapers, the light reading of the season,
our recreations, our rambles in the country, our foreign
tours, aU ponr their contributions of intellectual matter
into the storehouses of our memory; and, though n111ch
may be lost, n1uch is retained. 1'hese informations,
thus received with a spontaneous assent, constit.ute the
furniture of the mind, and n1ake the difference between
its civilized condition and a state of nature. They are
its education, as far ac; general knowledge can so be
ealled; an
l, though education is discipline as 'yell as

54

Notional Assents.

learning, still, unless the tnind implicitly wclco111cS the
truths, rcal or ostensible, ,vhich these inforlnations

npply, it will gain ncither fornlation nor a stin1ulus
fur its activity and progress. Besides, to believe frankly
what it is told, is in the young an exercise of teach-
ableness and hnn1ility..
Credence is the n1eans by which, in higl1 and lo,y, in
the man of the 'world and in the recluse, our bare ancl
harren nature is overrun and di\Tersifieù fronl ,vithout
with a rich and living clothing. It is hy such un-
grudging, prompt assents to what is offered to us so
lavishly, that ,vo become possessed of the principles,
doctrines, sel1tinlcl1ts,facts, which constitute useful, and
especially liberal knowledge.
rhese various teachings,
shallo,y though they be} are of a breaùth 'which secures
us against those lacllnæ of knowledge ,vhicb are apt to
befall the professed student, anù keep us up to the nlark
il11itcrature, in the arts, inhistory, anù in public matters.
rrhey give us in great measure our 11lorality, our
politics, our social code, our al"t of life.
rh('y supply
the elelnents of public opinion, the watclnvorùs of ]1a-
triotism, the standards of thought anù action; they are
our nlutllal understandil1g
, our channels of synlpathy,
our llleans of co-operation, and the Lond of our civil
lllUon. They hecon1c our nloral language; we lpnI'n
them as 'Yl' learn our 1110t11('1' tongue; they distingui:-:h
us from forcigneI'5; th('y are, in each of us, not indecù
per5onal, but national charactc\1'istics.
This acconnt of then1 ilnplies tl1at t hey are received
,vith a notional, not a real assent; t11ey are too 11lanifold
to be rec(\ivel1 in nn):' otlJ(,1' "
aYe E'\C'n the n10st pI'ac-

CrCdCllét.

55

tiscd anù carnc;t n1int1s l1I11st nceù3 be snperficial in the
greater part of their attainlnellts. Tney know just
enough on all su ljccts-, in literature, history, politics,
philosophy, and art} to be able to converse sensibly on
thcIn, and to understand those who are really deep in
011e or other of theill. This is what is called, with a,
8pccial appositeness, n, gentlûlllan's knowledge, as con-
trasted ,vith that of a professional nIal], and is neither
worthless nor despicable, if used for its proper ends; but
It is ne,
er more than the furniture of the mind, as I
haye caBed it j it never is thoroughly assimilated with
it. Yet of course there is nothing to hinder those who
ha'
c ev'cn the largest stock of such notionsfroln -de-
voting themselves to one or other of the subjects to
,,-hich those notions belong, and. Inastering it with a
real apprehension j and then their general knowledge
of all subjects nlay be }uade variously useful in the
direction of that particular study or pursuit which
they have Relected.
I have heen speaking of secular kno'wledge j l)ut re-
ligion u1ay be Inade a suhject of notional assent also,
and is e
pccially so 111ade in our own country. Theology,
as such, always is notional, as being scientific: religion,
as heing person(1l, should be real j but, except ,vithin a
f:mall range of subjects, it conunonly is not real in Eng-
land. }1.S to Catholic populations, such as those of meJi-
(',"al Europe, or the Spain of this day, or quasi-Catholic
as those of Russia, aUIong theln assent to religious
ohjects is rea1, not notional. 'fa tholn the Suprellle
Being, our Lord, the Blessed \
irgin,.L\ngels and t;aillt
,
heaven aUIl hclJ)
l'a '-H;;' Pð\

nt
I

.r- they were objects of

56

l\loliollal Asscnt.

Eight; but such a faith docs not suit tho genins of
ulodcrn England. ']]l(
re is in the literary ,yorIù just
now. an affectation of calling religion a" 8entilnent j"
nnd it must be confessed that usually it is nothing more
'with our own people, educated or rude. Objects are
bar
1y necessary to it. I do not say so of old Calvinism
or Evangeìical Religion; 1 do not call the religion of
Leighton, Beveridge, 'Vesley, Thomas Scott, or Cecil
a mere sentill1ent; nor do I so term the high Angli-
canism of the present generation. TIut these are
only denon1Ínations, partie
,
cl1ooIs, compared ,yith
the national religion of England in its length and
breadth. "Bible Religion JJ is both the recognized
title and the best description of English religion.
It consists, not in rites or creeùs, lJut nlainly in
having tl:.e Bible reaù in Church, in the family, and
in pri vate. Now I am far indced fronl undervaluing
that nlerc knowledge of Scripture ,vbich is impartctl
to the population thus pro111iscuously. At least in Eng-
land, it has to a certain point tnade up for great and
grievous 105ses in its Christianity. Tho reiteration
again and again, in fixcd course in the public servicc)
of theworàs of inspired teachers under both Covenants)
and that in grave majestic English, l1as in matter of
fact been to our people a vast benefit. It has attuneJ
their minds to religious thoughts; it has given thcm
a high moral standard; it lIas served them in asso-
ciating religion with conI positions which) even humanly
consiilerod J are among the most sublime and beautiful
evcr \vrittcn; cspeciaJlr, it has impressed upon thorn
t11e series of Diyine Proviùel1ccs in behalf of man from

C'J'edeJlre.

57

llis creation to his end, and, above all, the worùs,
deeùs, anù sacred sufferings of IIim in ,vItom al1 tho
rroyidences of God centre.
So far the indiscrin1inate reading of Scripture has
been of service j still, much more is necessary than the
benefits which I have enumerated, to answer to t
le
idea of a religion; whereas our national form professes
to he little IDore than thus reading the Bible and living
a correct life. It is not a religion of persons and things,
of acts of faith and of direct devotion; but of sacred
scenes and pious sentilnents. It has been c0l11parative1y
careless of creed and catechism; and bas in conse-
quence sho-wn little Sf:nse of the need of consistency in
the matter of its teaching. Its doctrines are not so
much facts, as stereotyped aspects ùf facts j and it is
afraid, so to say, of wall
ing round theIne It induces
its followers to be content wit,h this meagre view of
re'gealed truth; or, rather, it is suspicious anù protests,
or is frightened, as if it saw a figure in a picture Illove
out of its frame, when our Lord, the Blessed Virgin,
or tho Holy Apostles, are spoken of as real beings,
and real1y such as Scripture implies them to be. I
a1n not denying that the assent ,vhich it inculcates
and elicits is genuine as rcgarJs its contracted rango
of doctrine, but it is at best notional. "\Vhat Scripture
especially illustrates from its first page to its last, is
God's ProvÜ.lellce j and that is nearly the only doctrine
}leld with a real assent by the mass of religious English-
Inon. lIenee the Bible is so great a sola.ce and refuge
to theul in trouble. I repeat., I am not speaking of
particular schoo1s and parties in England, whether of

S3

1\
ùli.Jllal L 1 SSC/ltS.

the IIigh Church or the Low, but of the Ina

of
piously-uli]}(ll,a antI ,,"ell-living peoplo in alll'allks of
the COllll11Unity.

3. Ol,inion.
That class of assents which I ha\"'c calleù CrrùC']l('p,
being a spontaneous acèeptance of the yarious iufol'llla-
tinns, w'hich are by whate'
er mpallS conveyeù to our
Inillds, ROlnetÏ1nes goes by the name of Opinion. "\ Yhen
,,'e speak of a man's opinions, ,vhat do ,ve mean, hut the
collection of notions which he happens to have, and ùocs
Hot casily p:1rt ,vitL, though he has neither sufficient
proof nor firlll grasp of theIn? rrhis is true; however,
Opinion is a \Vorù of various f'ignifications, and I prefer
to use it in nl5" own. Besitles standing for Credence, it
is s<JInetill1es taken to n1can Conviction, as when we
f:.peak of the" ya,riety of religious orinion
," or of heing
"persecuted for rpr
'ions opiniouç:," or of our haviug'
"no opinion on a particular point," or of flnot1H
r La\"iJlg
C( no religious opinions." And sonletilnes it i
u:-:e<1 in
contrast with Conviction, as synonyn1ous with a light
und casual, tlJoug-h genuine a
sent; thus, if a nlan was
('.very ùay changing his Inind, that is, his assents, "
e
lnight
ay, that he was vcry changeable in his opinion
.
I shall hero us(' the word to denote an assent, but an
assent to a proposition, not as truc, but as probaùly
true, that i
, to the probability of tl1at \vhich tho pro-
position enunciates; and, as t1Iat probability lllay ,"ary in
8h'cngth ,vithout lin1Ït, so Ina)" the cogency and n10ment
of the opinion. This account of Opinion may seC'rn to
confuse it with Inference; for the strpngth of an iufe-

o þÙIÎOJl.

59

rence varies ,,,ith its prel11isscs, and is a probability; but
the t\\ 0 acts of Inind are really distinct. Opinion, as
being nn assent, is independent of premisses. 'Ve have
opinions which "ye never think of defending by nrgu-
Inent, thougb, of course, "yo think they can be so de..
fended. 'Ve are even obstinate in them, or 'what is
called" opinionated," and nUlY say that we have a right
to think just as we please, reason or no reason j whereas
Inference is in its nature and by its profession con-
ditional and uncertain. To say that" we shall have a
fine hny-llarvest if the present weather lasts/' does not
come of the same state of nlind as, "I alTI of opinion
that we shall have a fine hay-har'
est this year."
Opinion, thus explained, has more connection with
CL'edence than with Inference. It differs froln Credence
in these two points, viz. that,
yhile Opinion explicitly
assents to the prohability of a given proposition,'
Credence is an Ï111plicit assent to its trutb. It differs
í L'orn Credence in a third respect, viz. in bein g a reflex
act ;-.when "\\e take a thing for granted, w'e have
crcdence in it; ,vhen ,ve begin to reflect upon our
credence, and to 11leasnre, estimate, and 1110dify it, then
we are forming an opinion.
It is in this sense t1lat Catholics speak of theological
opinion, in contrast ,,'ith faith in doglna. It is lnnch
11101'0 than an inferential act, but it is ùislinct fronl an
act of certitude. And this is really the sense which
Protestants give to tbe 'word when they interpret it by
Conviction; for tlleir highest opinion in religion is,
generally speaking, an assent to a probability-as cycn
l1utler has been understood or 111isnndcrstooc1 to tC:lcl],

60

Ploliollal Asse1lts.

-and therefore consistent ,vith toleration of its con-
tradictory.
Opinion, being such as I ha"\o described, is a notional
assent, for the predicate of tho proposition, on ,vhich
it is exercised, is the abstract word" probable."

4. Presumption.

Dr rl'esnlllption I 111e:1n an assent to fil'st principle
;
find by first pl'il1ciples I Ine[ln the propo
itions ,vith
,vhich ,ve start in reasoning on anygiyen sllbject-nuttter.
Thpy are in con
cquence very IHlll1erous, and vaT'Y in
great Inl
asnre \vith the persons 'who reason, according
to theil' judgll1ellt anù power of assent, being received
by
orlle lniuLl
, not by others, and only a fe\v of thel11
received universally. They are all of them notions, not
iUlfIges, ùecau
c they express ,vhat is abstract, not
,v hat is il1Jividual and fronl direct experience.
]. S01l1etilnes our trust in our powers of reasoning
ana me1l10ry, that iR, our in1plicit assent to their telling
truly, is t.reated as a fir:;:t principle; but ,ve cannot
properly be said to have any trust in thelll as faculties.
At most ,YO h'l1st in particular acts of memory and
reasoning. "\Ve are sure t] ere ,vas n, ycsterùay, ana
that 'YO dill this or that in it; ,ye are sure that three
tirnes six is eighteen, and that the diagonal of a square
is longer than the side. So far as this we may be said
to trust the 1l1elltal net., by which the object of our
assent is verified; but, in aoing so, wo imply no r
cog-
nition of a general power or faculty, or of any capability
01' afT'eet;r vn ()f our 1J1ind
, over and above the particular

Pres/uu}1 z"Oll.
nct. 'Ve kno,,' indeed that 'vü have a faculty by which
"e rCIUelTI Lor, as wo know ,ve have a faculty by which
'\\ e breathe; but we gain this knowledge by abstraction
or inference from its particular acts, not by direct ex-
perience. K or do we trust in the faculty of memory
or reasoning as such, even after that ,ve have inferred
its existence; for its acts are often inaccurate, nor do
"'e invariably assent to them.
However, if I must speak my nlind, I have another
ground :for reluctance to speak of our trusting memory
or reasoning, except indeed by a figure of speech. It
seems to me unphilosophical to speak of trusting our-
selves. "\V 0 are what ,ve are, and we use, not trust our
faculties. To debate about trusting in a case like this, is
parallel to the confusion implied in wishing I had had
a choice ü I would be created or no, or speculating
,vhat I should be like, if I were born of other parents.
" Proximus sum egomet mihi." Our consciousness of
self is prior to all questions of trust or assent. 'Ve act
according to our nature, by means of ourselves, when we
remember or reason. 'Ve are as little able to accept or
reject our mental constitution, as our being. "\Ve have
not the option; ,ye can but misuse or mar its functions.
,V 0 ÒO not confront or bargain ,vith ourselves; and
therefore I cannot call the trustworthiness of the facul-
ties of memory and reasoning one of our first principles.
2. Next, as to the proposition, that there are things
existing external to ourselves, this I do consider a first
principle, and one of universal reception. It is founded
on an instinct; I so can it., because the brute cre3.tion
possesses it.
rLis in
tillct is directed tow
n'ds individual

61

62

j\lolicJlltll .r15sell/
).

phenolnena, one hyone, and has nothing of the c11aractcl e
of a gcneralization; and, since it exi::;ts in brutes, tho
gift of rea.son is not a condition of its existence, and it
ma.y justly be considcredan illstinctin nlan also. 'Vhat
the hUll1an nlind does is wha.t brutes cannot ùo, viz. to
dra,v from our ever-recurring experiences of its testi-
mony in particular$ a g
nera,l proposition, und, because
this instinct or intuit.ion acts \vhene\.cr the phCnOll1Clla
of sense prescnt thclnsel vcs, to lay ùown in broad terrl1s,
by an inL1uctive proccss, the great aphorislD, that there
is Ull external worlù, and that all the phenomena of
scnse procecd fl'Olll it. 'l'his gcneral proposition, to
which we go 011 to assent, gocs (eælellsirè, tbough not
Úllen.r;irl') far beyond Ollr cxperience, illimitable as that
experience Illay be, anù represent8 a notion.
:3. I have spoken, ana I think rightly spoken, of in-
stinct as a force which spontaneously iU1pels us, not only
to bodily rnOVell1Cnts, but to lnental acts. It is in'3tillct
which leaa::; the quasi-intelligent principle (whatever it
iR) in brutes to perceive in tho phenoluena of sense a
Eornething Ji:5tinct frorn and beyont1 those phenolnena.
It is instinct ,vhich illlpels the child to recognize in tho
silliles 01' the fro,vns of a counten
nce \vhich Ineets his
eyes, not oBly a being cxterpal to himself, but one whoso
looks clicit in hin1 confit1ence or fear. Aud, as he in-
stinctively interprcts these physical phcnomena, as
tOkCllS of thing
beyond thclnsel ves, so froIn the sensa-
tions attendant upon certain classes of his thoughts anù
actions he gains a perception of an external being, who
reads hi$ mind, to whom he is responsiblc, ,vho prai::;es
alHl bhLlncs, ,"ùo prollli
e
and thrcatens. ....\..s I aUlonly

FrCSliJ11þ!/O/I.

6'"
J

i!tll
tl'aUng a gencral view hY0xa1np1cs, I
llall take this
analog)" for granteù here. As then we havo our initial
kllowleJge of the universe through sense, so ÙO we in
the fÌrst instance "begin to learn about its Lara and Goll
frolll conscience; ttllLl, as fronl particular acts of that
iIl
tillCt, which makes experiences, mere inlages (as they
ulti
ately arc) npon the retina, the nlcans of our per-
ct..iY
ng sOlnething real beyond them, \ve go on to dra\v
tl}(
gellel'al cone1nsion thatthero is a vast external \vorhl,
so froll) the recurring instances in which conscience acts,
fOl'cingnpon us irnportl1natclytho manùateof a Superior,
,,'e have fresh and fresh evidence of the existence of a

overeign Ruler, frolll ,vhonl those particular dictates
which 've experience proceed; so that, ,,,ith lilllitatiolls
which cannot here he lllade without djgre
sing from my
Inain su bject, we Tuay, by llleans of that induction froin
particular expcriences of conscience, have as good a
warrant for cOl1c:luJing the Ubiquitous Presenco of Ono
t;upl'CIlle )[aster, as we have, from parallel experience
of
Cllse, for as
cnting to the fact of a Inultiforn1 and
va
t worlJ., n1aterial anù IneIÜal.
Ho\\-cvcr, this a
scnt is notional, because ,,"e gene-
raliz
a cOllsi-:;tent} methodical fOl:IU of Divine U uity and
p,..rsonality with Its attribntes, froll1 particular expe-
riences of the religious instinct, ,,,,hich are tho111selves,
only intcnsitè, not e.rtel1.;;.:il:è, and in the Ünagilln.tion,
nut intcllcctual1y-, notices of Its Presence; though at the

arue titHe that a
sent lllay becoine real of course, as Inny
the assent to the external \vorId, viz. ,,,hen we apply our
general knowlellge to a particulal
instanceofthat kno\v-
ledgc: as, according to a fOl'laer rCInark, the g-eueral

64

i'/oliollal Assents.

"variurn ct Inut
lJile " was realizcd in Diùo. And in
thus treating tho origin of these great notions, I
nn not
forgetting the aiù which from our earliest years we
receive from teachers, nor am I denying the influence of
certain original forIlls of thinking or formative iJcas,
connatural with our 111inds, ,vithout which ,yO coulJ not
reason at aU. I alll oIiiy contenlplating the mind as it
1noves in fact, by whatever hidden mechanisIl1; as a
locolnotive pngine conlJ not 1110VO ,vithout ste:un, Lnt
still, under ,vhatever nUlubcr of forces, it certainly does
start from Birrninghall1 and docs arrive in Lonùon.
4. ..á..nd so again, as regards the first principles
(\xpressed in such propositions as "There is a right
and a ,vl'ong," " a truo and a false,"" a just and an
unjust," a "beautiful and a deformed;" they are
abstractions to which ,ve givo a notional assent in
consequence of our particular experiences of qualities in
the concrete, to which ,YO give a real assent. As we
forin our notion of whiteness froin the actual sight of
snow, nÚlk, a lily, or a clouù, so, after experiencing the
s0lltilnent of approbation ,vhich arises in us on the sight
of ccrtain acts one by one, "-0 go on to assign to that
scntiIllent a, cause, antI to tho
e acts a quality, and ,ve
give to this notional cause cr quality the name ofvirtup,
,vhicb is an abstraction not a thing.
t\nd in like
manncr, whcn 'we have been affected hya celtain specific
adu1Ïl'il1g' pleasure at the sight of this or that concrete
objcct, ,ve proceed by an arbitrary act of the mind to
gi\-e a IUlll1e to the llypothetical cause or quality in the
ahstract, ,,'hich excites it. "T e speak of it as beautiful-
ness, and henceforth, whcn W0 can a thing hc'autiful, ,ve

PreS1t1Jzþtl01Z.

65

mean by the .word a certain quality of things which
creates in us this special sensation.
rrhese so-called first principles, I say, are really con-
clusions or ah:::;tractions from particular experiences;
and an assent to their existence is not an assent to
tl)ings or their images, but to notions, real assent being
confined to t.he propositions directly embodying those
experiences. Snch notions indeed are an evidence
of the reality of the special senti 1Dents in particular
instances, ,vithout w"hich they would not have been
formed; but in themselves they are abstractions from
facts, not elementary truths prior to reasoning.
I am not of course dreaming of denying the objective
existence of the
Ioral La,v, nor our instinctive recogni-
tion of the immutable difference in the moral quality of
acts, as elicited in us by one instance of them. Even
one act of cruelty, ingratitude, generosity, or justice
reveals to us at once intensi-vè the imlllutable distinc-
tion between those qualities and their contraries; tbat
is, in that particular instance and pro hac 'Vice. From
such e
perience-an experience which is ever recurring
-we proceed to abstract and generalize; and thus the
abstract proposition .e There is a right and a "Tong,"
as representing an act of inference, is received by the
mind with a notional, not a real assent. Howevel-, in
proportion as we obey the particular dictates which are
its tokens, so are we led on more and more to view it
in the association of those particulars, which are real,
and virtually to change our notion of it into the image
of that objective fact, which in each particular case it
undeniably is.

,.

66

Notional Assents.

5. .....\notber of the<:ïe presnmptions is the belief in
causation. It is to me a perplexity tbat grave authors
seen} to enunciate as an intuitive truth, that every thing
must have a Cilu
e. If this ,vere so, the voice of nature
,vould ten fal
e; for ,vhy in that case
top short at One,
,,,ho i:"; IIilllself ,vithout cause? 'The assent which we
give to the proposition, as a first principle, that nothing
happens ,,,ithout a cau
c, is derived, in the fir:,t instance,
froin ,vhat we know of our
el Vl'S; and we argne ana-
logically froln ,,,hnt is within us to \vhat is external to
us. OllP of the first expel'iellces of an infant is that ot
his willing and doing; and, as tin1e goes on, one of the
first ternptations of the boy i
to ùring home to hirnself
the fact of his sovereign arbitrary power, though it be
at the price of waywardness, mischievousnesR, and dis-
obcùiellce. And when his parents, as antagonists of
this wilfulness, begin to restrain hin1, and to bring his
n1Ïnd anù conduct into shape, then he has a second
series of experiences of cause and efrect, and that upon
H principle or rule. rrhu
the notion of causation is Ol1e
of the first lessons which he learns from experience,
that experience lilniting it to agents posses:-;eù of intelli-
gence and "rill. It is the notion of po,ver cOlllùineù
,vith a purpose and an end. Physical phenolnena, as

uch, are without sense; and experience teaches us
nothing about physical phenomena as causes. Accorù-
ingly, whereyer the ,vorld is young, the movenlents and
chaug"es of physical nature have been and are spontane-
ously ascribed by its people to the presence and will of
hIdden agents, who haunt every part of it, the ,voods,
the mountains and the streams, the air and the stars,

PresuJJlþtiOll.

67

for good or for evil ;-just as chilùren again, by beating
tbe ground after falling, ÎInply that what has bruised
them has intelligence ;-1101' is therp anything illogical
in such a belief. It rests on the argument from analogy.
As time goes on, and society is forIned, and the idea
of science is rnastered, a different aspect of the physical
universe presents it::;eIf to the mind. Since cau
è1tion
irnplies a seqnence of acts in our own case, and our
doing is alway
posterior, never contemporaneous or
prior, to our ,vil1ing, therefore, when ,ve ,vitness invari-
able antecedents and consequents, we call the former
the canse of tbe latter, though intelligence is absent,
from the analogy of external appearances. At length
"'e go on to confuse cau
ation ,vith order; and, because
we happen to have 11lade a successful analysis of some
cornplicated assemblage of phenomena, wbichexperience
ha
brougbt before us in the visible scene of things,
anù have reduced them to a tolerable dependence on
each other, we call the ultimate points of this analysis,
and the hypothetical facts in which the whole lllass of
phenomena is gathered up, by the name of causes,
'whereas they are really only the :formula under which
those phenonlena are conveniently represented. 'rhus
the constitutional formula, "The king can do no wrong,"
is not a fact, or a cause of the Constitution, but a happy
mode of bringing out its genius, of determining tbe
correlations of its elements, and of grouping or regula.t-
ing political rules and proceedings in a particular direc-
tion and in a particular forln. And in like manner, that
all the particles of matter throughout the universe are
attract
d to each other with a force varying inver
ely
.. 2

68

Notional Asscnts.

with the square of their respective distances, is a pro-
found idea, harlnonizing the physical ,yorks of the
Creator; but even could it be proved to be a universal
fact, and also to be the actual cause of the movelnents
of aU bodies in the universe, still it \vould not be an
experience, any luore than is the mythological doctrine
of the presence of innunlerable spirits in those same
physical phenomena. .
Of these two senses of the word cc cause," viz. that
,vhich brings a thing to be, and that on which a thing
under given circumstances fol1o\vs, the former is that
of which our experience is the earlier and more intimate,
being sugge
ted to us by our consciousness of willing
and doing. The latter of the two requires a discrimi-
nation and exactness of thought for its apprehension,
\vl1ich implies specialluental training; else, ho,v do we
learn to call food the cause of refreshment, but daynevcr
the cau:se of night, though night follows day nlore surely
than refreshment follows food? Starting, then, from ex-
peri
nce,Iconsideracauseto be an effective will; and, by
the doctrine of causation, I mean the notion, or first prin-
ciple, that all things come of effective \vill; and the re-
ception or presumption of this notion is a notional assent.
6. As to causation in th second sense (viz. an ordi-
nary succes"Íon of antecedents and consequents, or ". hat
is called the Order of Nature), \vhen so explained, it. falls
under the doctrine of generalla\vs; and of this! proceed
to make mention, as another first principle or notion,
derived by us from experience, and accepted with what
I have called a presulnption. By naturalla,v I Tnean
the fact that things happen uniformly according to

Pre sU1Jtþtion.

69

certain circumstances, and not without them and at
random: that is, that they happen in an order; and, as
an things in the universe are unit and individual, order
ilnplies a certain repetition, ,vhether of things or like
things, or of their affections and relations. Thus we
have experience, for instance, of the regularity of our
physical functions, such as the beating of the pulse and
the heaving of the breath; of the recurring sensations
. of hunger and thirst; of thE' alternation of ,vaking and
sleeping, and the succession of youth and age. In like
manner we have experience of the great recurring pheno-
mena of the heavens and earth, of day and night, sum.
nler and ,vin tel'. Also, ,ve have experience of a like
uniform succession in the instance of fire burning, water
choking, stones falling down and not up, iron moying
towards a magnet, friction followed by sparks and crack-
ling, an oar looking bent in the stream, and compressed
steam bursting its vessel. Also, by scientific analysis,
we are led to the conclusion that phenomena, ,vhich
seem very different from each other, adn1Ìt of being
grouped together as Inodes of the operation of one hypo-
thetical law, acting under varied circumstances. For
instance, the nlotion of a stone falling freely, of a pro-
jectile, and of a planet, Inay be generalized as one and
the same property, in each of them, of the particles of
matter; and this generalization loses its character of
hypothe
is, and beconles a probability, in proportion as
we have reason for thinking on other grounds that the
particles of all matter really move and act to,vards each
other in one certain way in relation to space and time,
and not in half a dozen ways; that is, that nature acts

7 0

plotiolla! Asscnts.

by uniform law's. And thus we advance to the general
notion or first principle of the sovereignty of law
throughout the universe.
'rhel'e are philosophers who go farther, and teach, not
only a general, but an invariable, and inviolable, and
neccssarv unifornlity in the action of the laws of nature
. ,
holding that every thiag is the result of SOllie law or
la,vs,
tnd that excf\ptions nrf' inlpossible; but I do not
see on ,,'hat ground of experience or rea!50ll they take up
this position. Our experience rather is ad verse to
such a doctrine, for 'v hat concrete fact or ph enOlnenon
exactly repeats itself? Some abstract conception of
it, more perfect than the recurrent phenomenon itself,
is neces
ary, before ,ve are able to say that it has
happcned even twice, and the variations which accom-
pany the repetition are ot the nature of exceptions.
The earth, for instance, never moves exactly in the same
orbit year by year, but is in perpetual vacillation. It
will, indeeù, be replied that this arises frùm the inter-
action of one la'v with another, of ,vhich the actual
orbit is only the accidental issue, that the earth is under
the influcnce of a variety of attractions frolH cosruical
bodie
, and that, if it is subject to continual aberrations
in its course, these are acconnted for accurately or suffi-
ciently by the pre
ence of those extraordinary and vari-
able attractions :-science, then, by its alla1ytical pro-
cesses sets right the pri11uÎ facie confusion. Of course;
still let us not by our words imply that ,ve are appeal-
ing to e)i'perience, when really ,ve are only accoun ting,
and that by hypothesis, for the absence of experience.
The confusion is a fact, the reasoning processes are not

PresltJJlption.

7 1

facts. The extraordinary attractions assigned to ac-
count for our experience of that confusion are not thpln-
selves experienced phenolncnal facts, but Dlore or less
probable hypothe
es,argued out by means of an assun1ed
analogy Letween the cosmical bodies to which those
attractions are referl'ed and falling bodies on the earth.
1 say" assumeJ," because that analogy (in other ,vords,
the unfailing uniformity of nature) is the very point
,vhich has to be proved. It is true, that we can make
expcrilnellt of the Jaw of attraction in the case of bodies
on the earth; but, I repeat, to assume froIn analogy
that, as stones do fall to the earth, so Jupiter, if let
alone, ,vould fall upon the earth and the earth upon
Jupiter, and ,vith certain peculiarities of velocity on
either side, is to have recourse to an explanation which
is not nece:5
arily valiù, unless nature is necessarily
unifornl. Nor, indeed, has it yet been proved, nor
ought it to be assumed, even that the law of velocity of
falling bodies on the earth is invariable in its operation;
for that again is only an instance of the general propo-
sition, ","hich is the very thesis in debate. It seems
safer then to hold that the order of nature is not
llecc
sary, but general in its manifestations.
But, it may be urged, if a thing happens once, it must
happen alw'ays; for what is to hinder it ? Nay, on the
contrary, why, because one particle of matter has a cer-
tain property, should all particles have the same? ,\Yhy,
because particles have instanced the property a thou
and
times, should the thousand and first instance it also?
It is primâ facie unaccountable that an accident should
happen t,vice, not to speak of its happening always. If

ï 2

Notz:ollal Assents.

we expect a thing to happen twice, it is because we think
it is not an accident, but has a cause. 'Vhat has brought
about a thing once, n1ay bring it about twice. TVhat is
to hinder its happening? rather, \\That is to make it
happen? Here we are thrown back from the question
of Order to that of Causation. A law is not a cause,
but a fact; but ,vhell we. come to the question of cause,
then, as I have said, we have no experience of any cause
but "Till. If, then, I must ans\ver tlJe question, vVhat
is to alter the order of nature? I reply, That which
wilI('d it j- That which willed it, can ull\vill it; and the
invariableness of hnv depends on the unchangeableness
of that "
ill.
A.nd here I am led to observe that, as a cause inlplie

a will, so order inlplies a purpose. Did we see flint celts,
in tlleir various receptacles all over Europe, scored
always with certain special and characteristic marks,
even though those marks had no assignable Ineaning or
final cause \vhatever, we should take that very repeti-
tion, which indeed is the principle of order, to be a proof
of intelligence. The agency then w"hich has kept up
and k
eps up the general laws of nature, energizing at
once in Sirius and on the earth, and on the earth in its
primary period as well as in the nineteenth century,
l11USt be l\Iind, and nothing else, and l\find at least as
,vide and as enduring in its living action, as the In1-
measurable ages and spaces of the universe on which
that agency has left its traces.
In these remarks I have digressed from my Imme-
diate subject., but they have some bearing on points
which ,vill suhsequently come into discussion.

Speculatioll.

. 73

5. Speculation.

Speculation is one of those ,vords "which, in the ver-
nacular, have so different a sense from what they bear
in philo
ophy. It is commonly taken to mean a con-
jecture, or a venture on chances; but its proper meaning
is mental sight, or the contemplation of mental opera-
tions and their results as opposed to experience, experi-
ment,or sense, analogous to its meaning in Shak
peare's
line, " Thou hast no speculation in those eyes." In this
sense I use it here.
And I use it in this sense to denote those notional
assents which are the most direct, explicit, and perfect of
their kind, viz. those which are the firm, conscious ac-
ceptance of propositiùns as true. rrhis kind of assent
includes the assent to all reasoning and its conclusions,
to all general propositions, to all rules of conduct, to all
proverbs, aphorisll1s, sayings, and reflections on men
and society. Of course mathematical investigations and
trnths are the subjects of this speculative ass3nt. So are
legal judgments, and constitutional maxin1s, as far as
they appeal to us forassent. Soare the determinations of
science; so are the princi pIes, disputations, and doctl ines
of theology. That there is a God, that He has certain
attributes, and in what sellse He can be said to have
attributés, that He has done certain works, that He has
made certain revelations ofHinlself and of His ,viII, and
what they are, and the multiplied LJearillg
of the parts
of the teaching, thus developed and formed, upon each
other, all this is the subject of notional assent, and of

ï4 ·

.f\lotiollal A sseJlts.

that particular department of it which I have called
Speculation. As far as these particular subjC1cts can
be viewed in the concrete and represent experiences,
they can be received by real assent also; but as ex-
presseù in general propositions thejT belong to notional
apprehcnsion and assent.

..

i(cal .A sseJlt.s.

75

2. REAL ASSENT<3.

I HAVE in a lueasure anticipHted tbe subject of Real
_.\.
sent by what I have been saying about NotionaL In
comparison of the directness aud force of the apprehen-
sion, which we have of an object, when our assent is to
be called real, X otional Assent and Inference seem to be
thrown back into one and the same class of intellectual
acts, though the former of the two i
ahvays an uncon-
ditional acceptance of a proposition, and the latter is an
acceptance on the condition of an acceptance of its
premis5es. In its notional assents as ,veIl flS in its
inferences, the n1ind contemplates its own creations
instead of things; in real, it is directed towards things,
represented by the Í1npressions which they have left on
the irr.agination. These images, ,,-hen assented-to,
lla ve an influence both on the individual aud on society,
'v hich lIlere notions cannot exert.
I have already given various illustrations of Real
Assent; I ,viII follow them up here by some instances
of the change of Notional Assent into Real.
1. For instance: boys at school look like each other,
and pursue the saIne studies, SOBle of theul with greater
success than others; but it will sometimes happen, that

76

Real A SS'3Jlts.

those who acquitted themselves but poorly in class,
when they come into the action of life, and engage in
some particular ,york, which they have already been
learning in its theory and with little promise of pro-
ficiency, are suddenJy found to have what is called an
eye for that 'york-an eye for trade matter
, or for en-
gilleering,or a special ta
re for literature-which no one
expected fronl thenl at school, while they were engaged
on notions. l\[inds of this stalnp not only know the
received rules of their profession, but enter into theIn,
and even anticipate them, OJ. dispense with thenl, or
substitute other rules insteaJ. And when J1e\v que3tions
are opened, and argunlents are dra,vn up on one side
and the other in long array, they ,,,ith a natural ease
and prolnptness fOI'In theirviews and give their decision,
as if they had no need to reason, froIn their clear appre-
hension of tbe lie and issue of the ,vhole Blatter in dis-
pute, as if it 'ver(
drawn out in a Blap before them.
These are the rcforrners, systen1atizers, inventors, in
various d(\partments of thought,
peculative and practi-
cal; in education, in administration, in Gocial and politi.
eal matters, in science. 8uch men indeed are far from
infallible; however great their po,ver3, they sometÍInes
fall into great errors, in theil o,vn special departn1ent,
while second-rate n1en who go by rule come to sound
and safe conclusions. In13ges need not be true; but I
am illustrating ,vhat vi\'"idlless of apprehension is, and
what is the strength of belief consequent upon it.
2. Again :-t,venty.rears ago, the Duke of 'V elling ton
wrote his celebrated letter on the subject of the national
defences. His authority gave it an imnlediate circula-

l
eal Assents.

77

tion among all classesofthe community; nonequestionea
what he
aid, lior as if taking his words on faith merely,
but as intellectually recognizing their truth; yet few
could be said to see or feel that truth. His letter lay,
so to say, upon the pure intellect of the national mind,
and nothing for a time came of it. But eleven years
after\Vard
, after his death, the anger of the French
colonels with us, after the attempt upon Louis Xapo-
leon's life, transferred its facts to the charge of the
imagination. rrhen forthwith the national assent became
in "arious ways an operative principle, especially in its
pron1otion of the volunteer moven1ent. The Duke,
having a special eye for military matters, had realized
the state of things from the first; but it took a course
of years to impress upon the public mind an assent to
his warning deeper and more energetic than the recep-
tion it is accuston1ed to give to a clever article in a
ne"rspaper or a reVIew.
3. .L\nù so genpraUy: great truths, practical or ethical,
float on the surface of society, admitted by all, valued
by few, exemplifying the poet's adage, "Probitas lau-
datuI' et alget," until changed circumstances, accident,
or the continual pre
sure of their advocates, force them
upon its attention. The iniquity, for instance, of the
slave-trade ought to Lave been acknowledged by all nlen
fl"Om the first; it was ackno,vledged by luany, but it
needed an organized agitation, with tracts and speeches
inn
llnerable, so to affect the imagination of men as
to make their acknowledgment of that iniquitousness
operative.
In likell1anner, when 1tlr. "Tilberforce, after succeeding

7 8

l(eal Assents.

in the slave que
tion, urged the Duke of 'Velliugton
to use hig great influence in discountenancing ùuelling,
he could only get fl-orn hilll in answer, "A rélic of
barbarisln,
1 r. "Tilberforce j" as if he accepted a notion
w'ithont rf'alizing a fact: at IplIgth, th(' growing intelli-
gence of the cOlnmunity, and the shock inflicted upon it
by the tragical circnll1stknces of a particular duel, ,vere
fatal to that barbari
m. 'fhe goveeniug- chlJs
es were
roused fr,)ln their drt'(1my acq Ilie!'cence in an abstract
truth, and recognized the duty ùf givillg it practical
expl'esslon.
4. L0t us consider, too, how different1y YOl1ng and old
are affected by the ,yords of S0111e classic aut hot-, such as
110lner or Horace. Passages, ,vhich to a boy are but
rhetorical cOll1mon-places, neither better nor worse than
a hundred others which any clever writer ll11ght supply,
,vhich he gets by heart and thinks very fine, and
imitates, as he thinks, succc::5sfully, in his o\vn flowing
versification, at length come home to hin1, when long
years have passed, and he has had
xperience of life, and
pierce him, as if he had never before knowll thmn, with
thcir f3ad earnestness and vivid exactness. 'fhen he
conles to understa.nd how it is that lines, the birth of
some chance n}orning or eve'1ing at an Ionian fe:stival,
or anlong the Sabine hills, have lasted generation after
generation, for thousands of years, with a power over
the mind, and a charn1, which the current literature of
his own day, with all its obvious advantages, is utterly
unable to rival. Perhaps this is the reason of the
medieval opinion about Virgil, as if a prophet or magi-
cian; his single words and phrases, his pathetic half

Real Assents.

ï9

lines O'iviuO' utterauce , as the voice of Nature herself,
'0 0
1"0 that pain and weariness, yet hope of better things,
which is the experience of her children in every time.
5. And what the experience of the 'vorld effects for
the illustration of classical authors, that office the reli-
gious sense, carefully cultivated, fulfils towards Holy
Scripture. 'fo the devout and spiritual, the Diviue "r ord
speaks of things, not merely of notions. And, again, to
the disconsolate, the tempted, the perplexed, the suffer-
ing, there comes, by means of their very trials, all
enlal'gelnellt of thought, .which enables them to see in it
,,,hat they nevpr sa\v before. Henceforth there is to
thelll a reality in its teachings, which they recognize as
an argument, and the best of arguments, for its divine
orIgIn. Hence the practice of nleditation on the Sacred
Text; so highly thought of by Catholics. Reading, as
we ùo, the Gospels from our youth up, we are in danger
of becoll1ing so familiar with them as to be dead to their
force, and to vie\v them as a mere history. The purpose,
thOll, of meditation is to realize thorn; to make the facts
,vhich they relate stand out before our minds as objects,
such as may be appropriated by a faith as living as the
iU1agination \vhich apprehends them.
It is obvious to refer to the un\vorthy use made of the
1110re solemn parts or the sacred volulne by the mere
popular preacher. His very mode of reading, whether
warnings or prayers, is as if he thought them to be
little more than fine writing, poetical in sense, musical
in sound, and ,vorthy of inspiration. The most awful
truths are to him but sublime or beautiful conceptions,
and are adduced and used by him" in season and out of

80

Real Assents.

season, for his own purposes, for embellishing his style
or rounding his periods. But let his heart at length be
ploughed by some keen grief or deep anxiety,and Scrip-
ture is a new book to hÍ1n. 'rhis is the change ,vhich so
often takes place in what is called religions conversion,
and it is a change so far sitnply for the better, by what-
ever infil'll1Ïty or error it is in the particular case
acconlpanied. And it is strikingly suggested to us, to
take a saintly example, in the confession of the patriarch
Job, ,vhen he contra
ts his apprehension of the Alrnighty
before and after his afHictions. He says he had indeed
a true apprehension of the Divine Attributes before
as ,yoll as after; but with the trial came a great
change in the character of that apprehension :-""rit.h
the hearing of the ear," he says, "I have heard Thee,
but no'v tnine eye seeth Thee; therefore I reprehend
mJself, and do penance in dust and ashes."

Let these- instances suffice of real ....\.ssent in its rela-
tion to N otiollal; they lead me to nlake three retl1arks
in further il1ustration of its character.
1. 'l'hefact of the distÍnC'tness of the images, which are
required for real assent, is no warrant for the existence
of the objects which those im
ges represent. A propo-
sition, be it ever so keenly apprehended, may be true or
may be false. If we simply put aside all inferential
information, such as is derived from testimony, from
genera.l belief, from the concurrence of the senses, from
COlnmon sense, or otherwise, we have no right to con-
sider that we have apprehended a truth, merely because
of the strength of our mental impression of it. Hence

Rcal Assents.

81

the proverb, " Fronti nulla fiùes," An image, with the
characters of perfect veracity anù faithfulness, Inay be
ever so distinct and eloquent an objcct presented before
the Inind (or, as it is sonlctimes called, an "objectum
intcrnurn," or a "subject-object"); but, nevertheless,
there may be no external reality in the case, correspond-
ing to it, in spite of its impressiveness. One of the
D10st renlarka."b,1e instances of this fallacious impressive-
ness is the illusion which possesses the minds of able
men, those especially who are exercised in physical in-
vestigations, in favour of the inviolability of the lïnvs of
nature. Philosophers of the school of Hume discard the
very supposition of miracles, and scornfully refuse to
hear evidence in their behalf in given instances, froln
their intimate experience of physical order and of the
eyer-recurring connexion of antecedent and consequent.
Their imagination usurps the functions of reason; and
they cannot bring themselves even to entertain as a hypo-
thesis (and this is aU that they are asked to do) a thought
contrary to that vivid impression of ,vhich they are the
victims, that the uniforn1Ïty of nature, which they witness
hour by hour, is equivalent to a necessary, inviolable law.
Yet it is plain, and I shall take it for granted bere,
that when I assent to a proposition, I ought to have
some more legitimate reason for doing so, than the
brilliancy of the image of which that proposition is
the expression. That I have no experience of a thing
happening except in one way, is a cause of the intensity
of n1Y assent, if I assent, but not a reason for my assent-
JDg-. In saying this, I am not disposed to deny tbe pre-
sence In some men of an idiosyncratic sagacity, which
G

82

Rcal Assents.

really nnd rightly c::ees reasons In impressions w hieh
common men cannot see, and is secured froln the peril
of confusing truth with make-belief; but this is genius,
and beyond rule. 1 grant too, of course, that acciden-
tally itllpre
siveness does in matter of fact, as in the
instance which I have been giving, constitute the motive
principle of belief; for tJle luind is ever exposed to the
(langeI' of being carried away by the liveliness of its
conceptions, to the
acrifice of good sense a lld conscien-
tious caution, Hnd the greater and the more rare are its
gifts, the gr
lÌter is the risk of swerving frotn the line of
reason and duty; but here I am not speaking of trans-
gressions of rule any more than of exception
to it, but
()f the normal constitution of our minds, and of the
natural and rightful effect of acts of the imaginat
o!1
upon us, and this is, not to create assent, ùut to
intensify it.
2. :Kext, .....t\..ssent, however strong, and accorded to
itnages however vivid, is not therefore necessarily prac-
tical. Strictly speaking, it is not in1agillatioll that
cau
es action; but hope anù fear, likes and dislikes,
nppC'tite, passion, affection, the stirrings of selfishness
:llld
elf-love. "That ilnaginatioll does for us is to find
a means of stinlulating those illotive powers; and it
does so hy providing a supply of objects strong enough
to stinlulate them. The thought of honour, glory, duty,
self-aggrandisement, gain, or on the other hand of
Divine Goodness, future reward, eternal life, pel'
e-
verillgly dwelt upon, leads us along a course of aetion
corresponding to itself, but only in case there be that
in our minds ,vhich is congenial to it. Ho,vever, when

ReaL Assents.

83

there is that prepa.ration of Inind, the thought does lead
to the act. Hence it is that the fact of a proposition
being accp-pted with a real assent is accidentally an
earnest of that proposition being carried out in conJuct,
and the imagination may be said ill SOUle sense to be of
a practical nature, inasmuch as it leads to practice indi-
rectly by the action of its object upon the affections.
3. There is a third remark suggested by the view
,y hich I have been taking of real assents, viz. that they
are of a personal character, each individual having his
o\vn, and being known by them. It is otherwise with
notions; notional apprehension is in itself an ordinary
act of our comInon nature. All of us have the po\ver of
abstraction, and can be taught either to make or to enter
into the same abstractions; and thus to co-operate in
the establishlnent of a common measure between mind
and mind. And, though for one and all of us to assent
to the llotions which we thus apPl'ehend in common, is
a further step, as requiring the adoption of a common
stand-point of principle and juJglncnt, yet this too
depends in good measure on certain logical processes of
thought, with which "
e are aU familiar, and on facts
,vhich "-e all take for granted. Bnt we cannot make
sure, for ourselves or others, of real apprehension and
assent, becau
e we have to secure first the images which
are their olJjects, and these are often peculiaraud special.
They depend on personal experience; and the experience
of 0119 man is not the experience of another. Real
a
sent, then, as the experience which it presupposes, is
proper to the individual, anù, as such, thwarts rather
thau promote
the intercourse of Inall with Ulan. [t
G 2

34

Real AsseJlts.

slnlts itself up, as it wpre, in its own home, or at lea,;t it
is its own witness aua its own stnndard.; and, as in the
instances abQ've given, it cannut Le reckoned on, anti-
cipated, accounted for, inasn1uch as it is the accident
of this man or that.
I call the characteristics of an individual accidents, in
spite of the uni\
ersal r
ign of law, berause they are
severally the co-incidents of many laws, and there are
no la\vs as )'et discovered of such coincidence. A man
who is run over in the street and killed, in one sense
suffers according to rule or law' j he was crossing, he was
short-sighted or pre-occupied in mind, or he was looking
another way; he was deaf, lame, or flurried; and the cab
came up at a great pace. If all this was so, it was by a
necessity that he was run over; it would havp been a
miracle if be had escaped. So far is clear j but what is
not clear is how all these various conditions met together
in the particular case, ho\\r it ,vas tbat a man, short-
sighted, hard of hearing, deficient in presence of mind,
happencd to get in the way of a cab hurrying along to
catch a train. 'rhis concrete fact does not con1e under
any law of sudden deaths, but, like tbe earth's yearly
patb which I spoke of above, is thp, accident of the
individual.
It does not meet the case to refer to the law of
a\
erages, for such laws deal ,vith percentages, not with
individuals, and it is about individuals that I am speak-
iug. ,!'hat this particular man out of the three milli(Jns
congregated in the metropolis, ,vas to have the expe-
rience of this catastrophe, and to be the select victim to
nppease that law of averages, no statistical tables could

}(cal Assents.

85

foretell, even though they could determine t11at it was
in the fates that in that week or day some four persons
in the Jength and breadth of London should be run over.
And in like manner that this or that person should have
the particular experiences necessary for real a
sent on
any point, that the Deist should become a Theist, the
Erastian a Catholic, the Protectionist a Free-trader, the
Conservative a Legitilnist, the high Tory an out-and-out
Democrat, are facts, each of which may be the result of
a nlultitude of coincidences in one and the same indi-
vidual, coincidences which we have no means of deter-
mining, and which, therefore, \ve may call acc idents.
For-

U There's a Divinity that shapes our euds,
Hough hew them how we will."

Such accidents are the characteristics of persons, ag
dipèrentiæ and properties are the characteristics of
species or natures.
'fhat a man dies when deprived of air, is not au
accident of his person, but a law of his nature j that he
cannot live without quinine or opium, or out of the
climate of
ladeira, is his own peculiarity. If all men
everywhere u
ual1y had the yellow fever once in their
lives) ,ve should call it (speaking according to our
knowledge) a law of the human constitution; if the
inhabitants of a particular country commonly had it,
we should call it a law of the climate; if a healthy man
has a fever in a healthy place, in a healthy season, ,ve
call it an accident, though it be reducible to the coin-
cidence of laws, because there is no known la\vof their
coincidence. fro be rational, to have speech, to pass

86

]?t:at Asscllts.

through successive changes of mind and body fronI
infancy to death, belong to man's nature; to have a
particular history, to be married or single, to have
children or to be cLildles
, to live a given nUlnher of
years, to have a certain con
titution, 1110ral telnpera-
ment, intellectual outfit, nlental fúrnuttion, these and
the like, taken altog"ther, are the accidpnts which
make up our notion vf a TIlan'S person, and are the
groun d-work or condition of his particular experiences.
:ßIoreover, various of the experiences which befall
this nJan 111ay be the same as those which befall that,
al though those experiences result each froIn the com-
bination of its own accidents, and are ultimately trace-
able each to its own special condition or history. That
is, ilnages which are possessed in common, ,vith their
appreht>l1sions and assents, may nevertheless be per-
sonal chr..ractcristics. If two or three hundred men are
to be found, who cannot live out of .ßladeira, that
inability,vould still be an accident and a peculiarity of
each of them. Even if in each case it implied delicacy of
lung
still that delicacy is a vague notioD, comprehend-
ing under it a great variety of cases in detail. If" five
hundred brethren at once" saw our risen Lord, that
common experience would not be a la,v, but a personal
accident ,vhich was the prerogative of each. And so
ßgain in this day the belief of so many thousands in
His Divinity, is not therefore notional, because it is
conlmon, but may be a real and personal belief, being
produced in differpnt individual minds by various ex-
periences and disposing causes, variously combined;
such a
a warm or strong Ï1nagination, great sensibility,

j(ea Asscnts.

ð7

compunction and horror at
in, frequenting the
lass
and other rites of the Church, meditating on the con-
tents of the Gospels, fan1iliarity with hymns and re-
ligions poen1s, dwelling on the Evidences, parental
e"\:ample and instruction, religious friends, strange pro-
vidences, powerful preaching. In each case the ilnage
in thp Inind, with the experiences out of which it is
forlned, ,vould be a personal result; and, though the
saIne in all, would ill each case be so idiosyncratic in
its circun1stallce
, that it would stand by itself, a special
formation, unconnected with any Jaw; though at the
same time it would necessarily be 3 principle of sym-
pathy and a bond of intercourse between those whose
minds had been thus variously ,vrought into a common
a
sent, far stronger than could follow upon any multi-
tude of mere notions which they unanimously held.
..\.nd even when that assent is not the result of con-
current causes, if such a case is pos
ible, but has one
single origin, as the study of Scripture, careful teach-
ing, or a religious tpmper, still its presence argues a
special history, anJ a personal formation, which an
aL:::,traction does not. For an abstraction can be made
at 'v ill, and may be the ,vork of a moment; but the
111 oral experiences which perpetuate themselves in
ÏInages, Inust be sought after in order to be found, antL
encouraged and cultivated in order to be appropriated.

I have now said all that occurs to me un the subject
of Real Assents, perhaps not 'without some risk of
su btlety and minuteness. They are sometimes called
beliefs, convictions, certitudes j and, as given to mora)

83

R cal A sseJlts.

()bjects, they are perhaps as rare as they are powerfuL

rill ,ve have them, in spite of a full apprehension and
as::;ent in the field of notions, we have no intellectual
moorings, and are at tbe mercy of iU1pulses, fancies,
and wandering lights, ,vhether as regards personal
conùuct, social and political action, or religion. These
heliefs, be they true or ft lse in the particular case, form
the mind out of which they gro,v, and impart to it a
seriousness and manliness which inspires in other minds
a confidence in its views, and is one secret of pcrsua-
sivelle
s and influence in the public stage of the world.
They create, as the case may be, heroes and saints,
great leaders, statesmen, preachers, and reformers, the
pioneers of discovery in science, visionaries, fanatics,
knight-errants, demagogues, and adventurers. They
have given to the ".orld licn of one idea, of ilnmense

llergy, of adamantine 'v ill, of revolutionary power.
They kindle sympathies betwepn n1an and nUtll, and
knit together the innumerable units which constitutp
a race and a nation. They becon1e the principle of its
political existence; they ilupa.rt to it homogeneity of
t.hought and fellowship of purpoße. They have given
form to the medieval theocracy and to the
Iahometan
f\uperstition; they are now the life both of "Holy
Russia," and of that freedum of speech and action
which is the ::;pecial Loa:st uf J
uglisillnen.

iVotzoJlal a1ld Rcal Assents Contrasted. 89

3. XOTIONAL AND REAL ASSENTS CONTRASTED.

IT appears from what has been said, that, though Real
Assent is not intrinsically operative, it accidentally and
inc1irectlyaffects practice. It is in itself an intellectual
act, of which the object is presented to it by the imagi-
nation; and though the pure intellect does not lead to
action, nor the imagination either, yet the imagination
has the means, which pure intel1ect has not, of stimu-
]ating those powers of tbe mind from ,vhich action
proceeds. Real Assent then, or Belief, as it 11lay be
called, viewed in itself, that is, sin1ply as .....tssent, does
not lead to action; but the images in which it lives,
representing as the:r do the concrete, have the power of
the concrete upon the affections and passions, and by
means of these indirectly become operative. Still this
practical influence is not invariable, nor to be relied on;
for given images may have no tendency to affect given
mind
, or to excite them to action. Thus, a philosopher
or a poet Inay vividly realize the bril]iant rewards of
military genius or of eloquence, \vithout \vishing either
to be a commander or an orator. However, on the
whole, broadly contrasting Belief with Notional Assent
and with Inference, we shall not, with this explanation,

90 ]\....otzollat alld frcal Asscnts Con! 'astetl.

be very ,vrong in pronouncing that acts of Notional
Assent and of Inference do not affect our conduct,
alHl acts of Belief, that is, of l{eal
\..ssent, do (not
necc:--:--ari1y, Lut do) affect it.
] haye ::;carc('ly
pokeu of Inference since my Intro-
ductory Chapter, though I intend, before I conclude, to
consider it fully; bu
I have
aid cnouf!'h to ëllhnit of
my introducing it here in contrast ,vith Real L\..
sent 01.
Belief, and that ('ontra
t i!5 nece

ary in order to com..
p)ete what I have been saying about the latt
r. T..Jet
Ole then, for the sake of the latter, be allowed here to
repeat, that, while .Assent, or Belief, presuppo
es some
apprehension of the things believed, Infèrence requires
110 apprehension of the things inferred; that in conse-
quence, Inference is necessarily concerncù '
7ith surfaces
and aspects; that it begins ,vith itself, and ends with
itself; that it ùoes not reach as far as facts; that it is
employed upon forlll ula::;; that, as far as it takes real
objects of whatever kind into account, such as lllotives
and actions, character and conduct, art,
cience, taste,
nloral
, rl'ligion, it deals with them, not as they are, but
sin1ply in its o'yn line, as materials of argurnent or in-
quiry, that they are to it nothing more than major and
nlinor premisses and concl
sions. Belief, on the other
hand, being concerned "ith things concrete, not ab-
stract, which variously t'xcite the n1Ïnd from their nloral
and irnaginative properties, has for its objects, not only
directly what is true, but inclusively what is beautiful

useful, aJmirable, heroic; objects which kindle devotion,
rouse the pa
si()ns, and attach thp affections; and thus it
leads the way to actions of every kind, to the establish-

1\ vl/oJ/a/ a J/ti Rta/ A sselits C"olltrastca. 9 i

ment of principles, and the forInation of clw.rnctcr, and
is thus again intimately connecteJ with wbat is indi-
vidual and personal.

I insisted 011 this tnarkec1 distinction between Beliefs
on the onp lland, and X otional _

sents and Infereuces
on the other InallV veal'S aO'o in ,vords which it will be
, .. 0
to IllY purpose to u
e now. I I quote them, becau,e, over
and above their appo5iteness in this place, they pre
ent
the doetrine on which I have been insisting, fron1 a
second point of vie"., and "with a freshne
s and force
"which I cannot now cOllllnand, and, moreovel', (though
they are lilY OWll, neverthe:e!:;s, frol11 the length of titHe
,vhich bas elap:5ed since their publication), ahnost with
the cogency of an independent testimony.
They occur i
l a protest which I had occasion to write
in February, 18--11, again
t a dangerous doctrine luain-
tained, as I considered, by two very eminent nlen of
that day, now no more-Lord Brougham anJ 5ir l{obert
Peel. That doctrine 'vas to the effect that the claiuls
of religion coulll be secured antI sustained in the Inass of
men, and in particular in the lower cla
se
of :5ociery, by
acquaintance "with literature and physical
cience, and
through the inbtrl1mentality of )Ipchallics' Institutes
and Reaùiug 11oon1s, to the serious disparageIuent, as it
seemed to HIe, of direct Christian instruction. In the
course of my renlnrks i
found the passage ,yhich I :5ba11
here quote, and which, with ,yhate'
er differences in
terminology, and hardihood of assertion, befitting' the

1 Vide ee Discussions and Argulllent51 on Yariolls Subjects," art. 4.

9 2 ATotional olld Rcal Assents Coulrflst{'d.

eircum
tances of its pn hlication, nay, as far a
words go,
inaccuracy of theological statelnent, :suitably illustrates
the suhject here under discus
ion. It runs thus :-
" People say to Inc, that it is but a dream to suppose
that Christianity should regain the or ganic power in
human society which once it possessed. 1 cannot help
that; I never
aid it could. I am not a politician; I

lln proposing no measures, but exposing a fallacy and
resisting a pretence. Let Benthamism reign, if nlen
have no aspirations; but do not tell them to be romantic
and then solace thenI ,vith ' glory:' do not attelnpt by
philosophy what once ,vas done by religion. The
ascendellcy of faith may be impracticable, but the reign
of knowleùge is incomprehensible. rrhe problem for
statesmen of this age is how t.o educate the lnasses, and
literature and science cannot give the solution. . . .
"Science gives us the grounds or premisses fronl
,,,hicb religious truths are to be inferred; but it does not
set about inferring theIn, nluch less does it reach the
inference-that is not its province. It ùrings before us
phenonlena, and it leave
us, if we ,vill, to call them
'yorks of design, .wisdom, or benevolence; and further
still, if we will, to proceed to confess an Intelligent
Creator. "... e have to take its facts, and to give then1 a
meaning, and to draw our own conclusions froln them.
First comes knowledge, then a view, then reasoning,
aud then belief. This is \vhy science has so little of a
religious t.endency; deductions have no po,ver of per-
suaSIon. The heart is commonly reached, not through
the reason, but through the imagination, by means of
direct impressions, by the testimony offacts anù events,

j\'otiollal alld Rcal Asscnts COlltrasted. 93

hy history, by description. Persolis influence us, voices
Inelt 11:', looks subùue us, deeds inflame us.
fallY a
man will livp and die upon a dog-Ilia : no man will be a
lllartyr for a conclusIon. A conclusion is but an opinion;
it is not a thing ,vhich is, but which \ve are' quite ðu.re
about;' an<1 it bas often been observed, that \ve never say
\ve are sure and certain without in1plying that we doubt.
rrù say that a thing must be, is to admit that it m,ny nút
be. No one, I
ay, \vill die for his own calculations: he
dies for realities. This is why a literary religion is so
little to be depended upon; it looks wen in fair weather;
Lut its doctrines are opinions, and, when called to suffer
for then1, it
1ips theln between its folios, or burns them
at its hearth. And this again is the secret of the distrust
and raillery with ,vbich n10ralists have been so commonly
visited. They say and do not. "'Thy? Because they
arc contemplating the fitness of things, and they live
by the square, when they should be rpalizing their high
maxiIns in the concrete. Now Sir Robert Peel thinks
better of natural histol
Y, chemistry, and astronomy
than of such ethics; but these too, what are they n101'e
than divinity in posse? He protests against 'contro-
vcrsial divinitj":' is inferential much better? .
'" I bave no confidence, then, in philosophers who can-
not help being reljgious, and are Christians by implica-
tion. They sit at home, and reach forward to distances
which astonish us; but they hit ,vithout grasping, and
are s0metiIlles as confident about shadows as about reali-
ties. rrhe.
have worked out by a calculation the lie of a
country which they never saw, and mapped it by means
of a gazetteer j and, like blind men, though theJ can

94 l\Totional and l?cal Llsscllts COlltrastc(l.

put a stranger 9n his \vay, they cannot 'walk straigl1t
themselves, and do 1l0t feel it quite their business to
,,'alk at all.
"Logic nutkesbuta sorry rhetoric 'with the multitude;
first shoot round corners, and you may not despair of
-converting by a syllogisn1. Tell tHen to gain notions of
.a Creator from Iris works, and, if they ,vere to set about
it (which nobody does) they ,vould be jaded and wearied
by the labyrinth they,vere tracing. Their n1Ïnds would
òe gorged and surfeited by the logical operation. Logi-
.cians are more set UpOll concluding rightly, thall on right
.conclusions. They cannot see the end for the process.
Fe'v men }lave that power of nlÏnd which may hold fast
and firluly a variety of thoughts. 'Ve ridicule' lllen of
()ne idea;' but a great many of us are born to be such,
and ,ve should be happier if ,ve knew it. To lllOst men
'argulnent 111akes the point in Land only 1110re doubtful,
and considerably leðs irnpressive. ...\.fter all, nlan is not a
rea:5oning anitnal; he is a seeing, feeling, contelnplating,
acting aninlaL He is influenced by what is direct and
precise. It is very ,yell to freshen our impressions and
.convictiops from physics, but to create them we ll1ust go
.else,vhere. Sir Robert Peel' never can think it po:::,sible
that a 111ind can be so cOilstituteù, tlmt, after heing
fall1iliarizeJ with the wonderful discoveries ,vhich have
been lTIade in every part of experimental science, it can
retire from such contemplations ,vithout more enlarged
.conceptions of God's providence, and a higher reverence
for His K anle.' If he speaks of religious mind, he perpe-
trates a truism; if of irreligious, he in
inuates a paradox.
" Life 1S not long enough for a religion of inferences;

JVoliollal auti Rcal Asscnts COlltrasft'd. 95

we shall never have done beginning, if we determine
to begin with proof. "r 0 shall ever be laying our
foundations; we shaH turn theology into evidences,
and divines into textuaries. \Ve shall never get at
our first Pl;inciples. Resolve to believe nothing, antI
you must prove your proofs and analyze your ele-
nlents, sinking farther and farther, and finding 'in
the lowest depth a lower deep,' till you come to the
broad bosom of scepticism. I would rather be bound
to defend the reasonableness of assuming that Chris-
tianity is true, than to demonstrate a moral govern-
ance from the physical world. Life is for action. If
\ve insist on proof.,:; for every thing, we shall never
come to action: to act you must assume, and that
assumption is faith.
"Let no one suppose, tbat in saying this I am
rnaintaining that all proofs are equally àifficult, and all
propositions equally debatable. Some assumptions
are greater than others, and some doctrines involve
postulates larger than others, anò. 1110re nUUlerous. I
only say, that impressions lead to action, aud that
reasonings lead frOln it. Kno\vledge of prenlis
es,
and inferences upon them,-this is not to lire. It is
very .well as a matter of liberal curiosity and of
philosophy to analyze our modes of thought: but
let this come
econd, ëLnd when there is ]eisure for
it, and then our examinations \vill in many waY8
even be subservient to action. But if we commence
with scientific knowledge and argulnentative proof,
or lay auy great stress upon it as the ba
3Îs of personal
Christianity, or attelnpt to wake lllan moral and

9 0 i'lotiollal and Rcal A sse 11 Is Contrasted.

religious by libraries alld InuseUlns, let us in con-
sistéllCY take chemists for our cooks, and mineralogists
for our Inasons.
" K ow I wish to state all this as nlatter of fact, to
be j udg-ed by the candid tpstirnony of any persons
wL
ttever. 'Vhy \ve are so constituted that faith,
not knowledge or arg.ument, is our principle of action,
is a question ,,-ith \vhich I have nothing to do; but
I think it is a fact, and, if it be such, 've must
resign our
elves to it aR best we may, unless we
take refuge in the intolerable paradox, that the Blass
of men are created for nothing, u,nd are meant to
leave life as they entered it.
"So weB has this practically been understood In
an ages of the ,vorld, that no religion yet has been a
religion of physics or of philo
ophy. It ]Ias ever
been synonymous with revelation. It never has been
a deduction fronl ,,-hat we kno\v; it has ever been an
assertion of what ,ve are to believe. It has never
lived in a conclusion; it has ever been a mesç;age, a
bistory, or a vision.
o legislator or priest ever
dreal11ed of educating our nloral nature by science or
by argulnent. There is no Jifference here between
trup rfJligion and pretenc1ed. :ßloses was instructed
not to reason from tbe creation, but to work miracles.
Christianity is a history supernatural, and almost
scenic: it tens us what its Author is, by tellillg us
what lie has done. . . .
" Lord Brougham himself has recognized the force
of thi8 principle. He bas not left his philosophical
religion to arguluent; he has cOllinlitted it to the

1\7 o tzo1lal alld RcalA SS""llts C01ltrast(
d. 97

keeping of the inHlgination. ,'Thy should he depict a
great republic of letters, and an intellectual pantheon,
except that he feels that instances and patterns, not
logical reasonings, are the living conclusions ,vhich
alone have a hold over the afIeeLÏuus or can forln the
ehal'<<.lctel o ? "

.

rTT.\P
ER v.

.'\ I'pnEHENSIO
AX IJ \S
ENT rx 'flJE
L\ TTER or
RELIGIOX.

'VE are now able to determine what a dogma of faith
is, and ,vhat it is to believe it. A doglna is a propo-
sition; it stands for a notion or for a thing; and to
belicv'e it is to give the assent of the n1Índ to it, as it
stands for the one or for the other. 'fo give a real
assent to it is an act of religion; to give a notional,
is a theological act. It is discerned, rested in, and
appropriated as a reality, by the religious Ï1nagination ;
it is held as a truth, by the theological intellect.
}\' ot as if there were in fact, or could bf', any line of
<1elnarcation or party-\vall between the::;e two l11o<1es of
.as
ent, the religious and the theological. As intellect
is comn1on to an men as ,veIl as imagination, every
religious man is to a certain extent a theologian, and
no theology can start or thrive ,vithout the initiative
and abiding presence of religion. As in matters of
this ,vorld, sense, sensatIon, instinct, intuition, supply
us ,vith facts, and the intellect uses them; so, as re-
gards our relations with the Supreme Being, w'e get our
facts from t.he ,v:'t.ness, first of nature, t hen of revela-

./lþþrehcllsioll all..! /lsscut ill Religioll. 99

tion, nnd our doctrines, in which they issue, through
the exercise of abstraction and inference. This is
obvious; but it does not interfere with holJing that
there is It theological habit of mind, and a religious,
each distinct from each, religion using theology, and
theology using religion. This being understood, I
propose to consider the dogmas of the Being of a God,
and of the Divine Trinity in Unity, in their relation
to assent, both notional and real, and principally to
real assent j-however, I have not yet finished all I
ha ve to say by way of introduction.

ow first, my subject is assent, and not inference.
I aLn not proposing to set forth the arguments \vhich
issue in the belief of these doctrines, but to investigate
wbat it is to believe in them, \vhat the mind does, \vhat
it conte III plates, \vhen it makes an act of faith. It is
true that the same elementary facts \vhich create an
object for an a
:sent, also furnish matter for an inference:
and in showing what \ve believe, I shall unavoidably be
in a lneasure showing why we believe; but this is the
very reason that makes it necessary for me at the ou tset
to insist on the real distinction between these two con-
curring and coincident courses of thought, and to pre-
Inise by way of caution, lest I should be misunderstood,
that I am not considering the question that there is a
God, but. rather what God is.
And secondly, 1 mean by belief, not precisely faith,
because faith, in its theological sense, includes a belief,
not only in the thing believed, but also in the ground of
believing; that is, not only be1ief in certain doctrines,
but belief in them expressly because God has revealed
H 2

100 Apprehcllsz'oll and Assent ,in Religion.

thern; but here I anl engaged only ,vith ,vhat is caned
the n1aterial object of faith,-with tbe thing helieved,
Hot with the fornm1. The ____\Jlnighty ,vitnesðes to Hill1
elf
ill llevelatioll; ,,-e believe that. He is One and tbat He is
Three, hecause He
ays so. "\Ve believe also what He
tells U
about His ...\..ttributes, His providence
and dis-
pensations, Ilis determinations and acts, what lIe has
Clone and what lie will do. And if all tbis is too much
for us, whether to bring at one time before our minds
from its variety, or even to apprehend at all or enunciate
from our narrOW!lCSS of inteHect or ,vant of learning,
then at least we believe in globo all that He has revealed
to us about Himself, and that, because lIe has revealed
it. IIowever, this " because lie says it" does not enter
into the scope of the present inquiry, but only the truths
themselves, and these particular truths, " He is One,"
" He is Three;" and of these two, both of ,vhieh are
in Revelation, I shall consider" He is One," not as a
revpaled truth, but as, wbat it is also, a natural truth,
tbe foundation of all religion. And with it I begin.

.iJetuj ZIZ Olle God.

101

1. BELIEF IN ONE GOD.

11IERE i
one GOD, sllch and such in Nature and
Attributes.
1 say" such and such," for, unless I explain what I
mean by " one God," I use words which may mean any
thing or nothing. I may mean a mere anin
a '/nundi ;
or an initial principle which once was in action and now
is not; or collective hUlnanity. I speak then of the God
of the r:rheist and of the Christian: a God ,vho is
nUlnerically One, ,vho is Personal; the Author, Su
-
tainer, and Finisher of all things, the life of Law and
Order, the 110ra1 Governor; One who is Supreme and
Sole; like Hill1self, unlike all things besides Hilnself
which all are but His creatures; distinct froIn, inde-
pendent of them all; Onewho is self-existing, absolutely
infinite, who has ever been and ever will be, to whom
nothing is past or future; who is all perfection, and the
fulness and archetype of every possible excellence, the
Truth Itself, \Visdom, Love, Justice, Holiness; One who
is All-powerful, AU-knowing, Omnipresent, Incompre-
hensible. These are some of the distinctive prerogatives
which I ascribe unconditionally and unreservedly to the
great Being "\\
hom I can God.
This being what Theists mean when they speak of

102 Apþrehcnsioll and A.(sent i11. Religion.

l-}od, their assent to this truth admits without difficulty
of Lpillg what I have called a notional assent. It is an
assent fol1owing upon acts of inference, and other purely
intellectual exercises; antI it is an assent to a large de-
YelOplnellt of predicates, correlative to each other, or at
least intilnately connected together, drawn out as if on
paper, as we Inig-ht Intlp a country which we had ne\rer

eel1, or construct n1athelnatical taLle
, or ma:::,ter the
methods of discovery ufNe"rton or Davy, without bein

geographers, mathematicians, or chelnists ourselvps.
So far is clear; but the question follows, Can I attrtin
to any l110re vivid assent to the Being of a God, than
that \vhich is given merely to notions of the intellect?
Can I enter with a personal knowledge into the circle
of truths which lnake up that great thought. Can I
rise to ,,,hat I have caEed an iUlaginative apprehension
of it? Can 1 believe a
if I saw? Since such a high
assent requires a present experience or nlemory of the
fact, at first sight it would seen} as if the answer IllUSt
be in the negative; for how can I assent as if I saw,
unless I have seen? but no one in this life can see Goù.
Yet I conceive a real assent is possible, and I proceed
to show ho\v.
'Yhen it i
said tbat we cannot see God, this is uude-
niable; but still in \vhat
ense have we a discernmeut of
IIis creatures, of the individual beings which surrounll
us? The evidence which "re have of their presence lies
in th(1 phenomena which address our senses, and
ur
warrant for taking these for evidence is our instinctive
certitude that they are evidence. By the law of our
l1ature we associate those sensible phenomena or ÏIn-

lleiÙ:f lJl Que God.

10 3

pressions with certain unit
, individuals, su1c;;tanccs,
whatever they are to 1e called, which are outside anù
out of the reach ùf sense, and we picture them to our-
splves in those phellolnena. The phenolnena are
as if pictures; but at the same titne they give us no
exact measure or character of the unkno,vn things
heyonLl then1 ;-for who ,vill say there is any uni-
forlnity between the in1pressions which two of us
would rebpectively have of some third thing, sup-
posing one of us hail only the sense of touch, and the
other only the sense of hearing? Therefore, when we
speak of our having a picture of the things which are
perceived through the senses, ,ve mean a certain repre-
s
ntation, true as far as it goes, but not adequate.
And so of those intellectual and moral obiects which
are brought home to us through our sen
",ö .-that they
exist., we know by instinct; that they are such and such,
we apprehend from the impre
sions which they leave
upon our minds. Thus the life and writings of Cicero
or Dr. .Johnson, of St.. Jerome or St. Chrysostom, leave
upon us certain iIllpressions of the intellectual and moral
character of each of them, sui gene,.is, and ullluistakable
\Ye take up a pas:sage of Chrysostom or a passage of
Jerome; there is no possibility of confusing the one with
the other; in each case we see the man in his language.
And so of any great Iuan whom \ve may have kno,vll:
that he is not a mere impression on Ohr sense::;, but a real
being, we kllO'V by instinct; that he is such and such,
w( kno\\ by the Inatter or quality of that impression.
Now certainly the thought of God, as Theists enter-
tain it, is nut gained by an instinctive association of Hi..;

104 Aþþrl'hcllSio1l end A SSCllt ill J?eligion.

presence with any sensible phenomena; but the office
which the senses directly fulfil as regards creation that
devolves indirectly on cprtain of our mental phenomena
-as regards the Creator. rrhose phenomena are found
ill the sense of moral obligation. As from a multitude
of instinctive perceptions, acting in particular instances,
of sOlnething beyond. the senses, ,ve generalize the
notion of an external ,vorld, and then picture that world
in aud accortling to those particular phenomena from
,vhich ,ve Ftarted, so fronl the perceptive po,ver which
itlputifies the intinlations of conscience with the rever-
berations or echoes (so to say) of an external admo-
nition, ,ve proceed on to the notion of a Supreme Ruler
and Judge, and tlH'n again ,ve image Him and His
attributes in those recurring intiIuations, out of which,
a
mental phenoDlcna, our recognition of Iris exi
tence
,vas originally gained. And, if the impressions which
l-lis creatures make on us through our senses oblige us
to regart1 those creatures as sui genc1.is respectively, it
is not ,,'onderful that the n0tices, which He indirectly
giv.e
us t.hrough our conscience, of His own nature
are such as to make us understand that lIe is like
IIirnself and like nothing else.
r have already said I am not proposing here to
prove the Being of a Goil; yet I have found it impos-
sible to avoid saying ,vhere I look for the proof of it.
:For I am looking for that proof in the same quarter as
t.hat from ,vhich I ,voulcl COllnnence a proof of His
attributes and character,-by the same Ineans as those
by which I show how we appr(Jbend Hinl, not n1erely as tt
notion, but as a realIty. The last indeed of these three

ß c uif ill 0 Ile God.

10 5

investigations alone concerns me here, but I cannot
altogether ex.clude the two forme\. !rom my considera-
tion. However, I repeat, what I am directly aitning
at, is to explain how wp gain an image of God and give
a real assent to the proposition that IIe exists. And
DPxt, in orùer to do this, of course I 111Ust start fl'OI11
son1e first priuciple ;-and that first priuciple, which I
aSsutlle and shall not atten1pt to prove, is that which
I should also use as a foundation in those other two
inquiries, viz. that we have by nature a conscience.
I assnn1e, then: that Conscience has a legitin1ate place
among our mental acts; as real1y so, as the action of
memory, of reasoning, of imagination_, or as the sense of
the beautiful; that, as there are objects ,vhich, when
presented to the lnind, cause it tù fecI grief, regret, joy,
or desire, so there are things which excite in us approba-
tion or blaIne, and which ,ve in consequence ca1l right or
,,-rong; and w hicb, experienced in ourselves, kindle in
us that specific sense of pleasure or pain, ,vhich goes
by the naU1e of a good or bad conscience. rrhis being
taken for granted, I shall attelnpt to show that ill this

pecial feeling, which foHows on the COllllllission of
,vhat 'we cnH right or wrong, lie the materials for the
real apprehension of a Divine Sovereign and Judge.
The feeling of conscience (being, I repeat, a ce,'tain
kccn sensibility, pleasant or painful,-self-approval and
hope, 01' cOIlJpunction and fear,-attenùant on certain
of our actions, which in consequence we can right or
wrong) is twofold :-it is a moral sense, and a sense
of duty; a judgn1ent of the reason and a Inagisterial
dictate. Of course its act is indivisible; still it has

106 Apprehension and Assent ill Religion.

these two aspects, distinct from each other, and admit-
ting of a separate considcration. 'rhough I lost tHY
sense of the obligation \vhich I lie unùer to abstain
fro111 acts of dishonesty, I should not in con
eqnence
lùsp Iny sense that such a,
tions ,vere an outrage offel'cd
to my moral nature. ..A.gain; though I lost my sen
e
of their Inoral deformit;
, I should not therefore lo
e Iny
sense that they were forbidden to Ine. Thus con
cience
IHt
both a critical and a judicial officc, and though its
proInptings, in the bl'easts of the nlÍllions of hU1l1àn
Leings to 'VhOlll it is given, are not in all ca.ses correct,
that doe::; not necessarily interfere with the force of its
tE::::;ti III ony and of its sanction: its testimony that tllere
is a right aud a ,vrong, and its sanction to that testiuIOllY
conveyed in the feelings ,vhich attend on right or \vrong

ollllnct. llere I have to speak of conscience in the
latter point of view, not as supplying us, by means of
its varion
acts, with the elements of morals, f'uch as
Inay be developed by the intellect into an ethical code,
but siulply as the dictate of an authoritative monitor
bearing upon the dctails of conduct as they come before
us, and cOlnplete in its several acts, one by one.
Let us theu thus consider conscience, not as a rule of
right conduct, but as a sanction of right conduct. 'This
is its primary and most authoritative aspect; it is the
orJinary sense of the ,vord. Half the ,vorld 'vou Id be-
puzzleJ to know ,vhat was n1eant by the moral sense;
but everyone knows what is meant by a good or bad
conscience. Conscience is ever forcing on us by threats
and by prolnises that we must follow the right and
avoid the wrong; so far It is one and the same in the

Bclief ill Olle God.

IOj

11lind of everyone, wha.tever be its particular error;:; in
particular nlinds as to the acts which it orJer:3 to 1e
Jone or to be avoided; and in this respect it COl'l'l'-
sponds to our pl'rception of the beautiful and deforll1el1.
As we bave naturally a SC!lSe of the beautiful and grace-
fnl in nature and art, though tastes proverbially differ,
so we have a sen::;e of duty and obligation, whether we
all associate it with the same certBin actions in particular
or not. IIere, however, Taste and Conscience part
company: for the sense of beautifulness, as indeed the

Ioral Sense, has no special relations to persons, but
contemplates objects in themselves; consciencp, on the
other hand, is concerned with persons prilnarily, and
with actions Inainly as vi8wed in their Joers, or rather
,yith self alone and one's own actions;, and ,vith otbers
ouly indirectly and as if in association with ;:;elf.
\..lld
further, taste is its own evidence, appealing to nothing
beyond its own sense of the beautiful or the ugly, and
enjoying the
pecilnens of the beautiful sirnply for thpir
own sake; but conscience does not repose on itselt
but
vaguely reaches forward to something beyond self, and
dilnly discerns a sanction higher than self for its deci-
sion
J as is cyidenced in that keen sense of obligation
and responsibility which inforlns them. And hence it
is that ,ve are aceustomeù to speak of conscience as a
vuice, a term which we should never think of applying
to the sen
e of the beautiful; and moreover a voice, or
the echo of a, voice, iruperati,re and constraining, like
no othel' dictate in the whole of our experience.
And again, in consequence of this prerogative or
dictatiLJg' aDd comnlanding, ,vhich is of its essence.

108 A pþrclu:JlS10ll aUti /lSSCllt ill Rcligioll.

Conscience has nn intilnate bearing on our affections
and cnlotions, loading us to reverence and awe, hope
and fear, espccially fpar, a feeling which is forcign for
the IllOst part, not only to Taste, but even to the .Jloral
Sell
e, except in conscquence of acci<<lputal a
sociations.
K 0 fear is felt .by anyone who recognizes that his
conduct has not been .beautiful, though he lUa,y be
1110rtificd at him
elf, if perhaps he has thereby forfpited

unlC advautage; but, if he hns been bctraJoL1 into
any kind of iluIDol'ality, he has a li\.ely
ense of
re:-o:pollsibility and guilt, though the act be no o:ffpnce
against society,-of distress and apprchension, even
though it lllay be of present service to hiIn,-of C0I11-
punction and regret, though in itself it be 11lOst
plt'a
ul'able,-of confu
ioll of face, though it may
h
ve :no witllesse
. These various perturbations of
lnincl ",.hi(>h are characteristic of a bad conscience,
and Inay he vl'ry con
iderable,-self-reproach, poignant
sh
l1lle, lw until1g rCIllorse, chill dislllay at t he prospect
of the futureJ-and their contrarie
, ,vhell the con-

cipnce is good, as r0al though less forcible, sclf-
approval, inward p0ace, lightne
s of heart, and the
like,-tbcse elllotions constitute a specific <1ifference
bet,veen con::;cience ana our other intellectual senses,
-counnon sense, good sense, sense of expedience,
taste, sense of honour, and the like,-as indeed. they
would also constitute bet,veen conscience a.nd. the
llloral sense, supposing these hvo were not aspects uf
OIle and the same feeling, exercised upon one and the
same subject-matter.
Sf) l)lIlCh for the characteristic phenomena, ,vbic11

Belief ill Ouc God.

10 9

conç:ciencc present
, nor is it difficu1t to determine
wLat tlley imply, I refol' once InUre to our sen
e of
the 1eautifnl. Thi
sell
O is atLenùeù by an intellec-
tual enjo
luent, and is free from ,vhatever is of the
nature of O111otion, except in one case, viz, ,vhen it is
excited Ly personal o1jects; then it is that the tranquil
feeling of admiration is exchanged for the excitenlent
of aHection and pas::,ion. Conscience too, consiùered
as a moral sense, an intellectual sentilnent, is a sense
of adluiration and disgust, of approbation and blalne:
but it is something more than a moral sense; it is
always, what the sense of the beautiful is only in cer-
tain cases j it is always emotional. X 0 ,vonder then
that it al ways ilnplics what that sense only Rometillles
ilnplies; that it always involves the recognition of a
liying object, towards .which it is directed, Inanimate
things cannot stir our affections; these are correlative
\\ ith persons. If, as is the case, ,ve feel re.::;ponsibility,
are ashalned, are frightened, at transgre::;sing the voice
of conscience, this inlplies that there is One to whom
we are responsible, before whom we are ashamed,
whose cIainls upon ns we fear. If, on doing wrong',
we feel the sallie tearful, broken-hearted sorro\v which
overwhelms us on hurting a mother; if, on doing right,
we enjoy the same sunny serenity of mind, the same

oothing, satisfactory delight ,vhich follows on our
receiving praise from a father, we certainly have within
us the Î1nage of some person, to whom our love and
veneration look, in whose smile we find our happinl'
5,
for whom we yearn, towards whom we direct our
plcading
, in whose anger w'e are troubled anJ ,va::,te

I 10 r/þþrencllsioJl and .rl.ssellt Ùl J?cIZ!:io1l.

a" aYe These feelings in us are such as require for
their exciting cause an intelligent being: ,ve are not
affectionate towards a stone, nor do \ve feel shame
hefore a horse or a dog; we havp no retnorse or COln-
punction on breaking IHere h Ulnan law: yet, so it is,
conscif:llce excites all these painful emotions, confusion,
foreboding, self-condet nation; and on the other hand
it sheds upon us a deep peace, a sonse of security, a
resignation, and a hope, ,vhich there is no sen
ible, no
earthJy object to elicit. " rrhe ,vicked flees, when no
Due pursnoth;" then ,vhy does he flee? whence his
terror? 'Vho is it that he sees in solitude, in dark-
neS::5, in the hidden cham bel's of his heart? If the
cau
e of the
e emotions does not belong to this visible
,\ odd, the Object to which his perception is directed
must be
upernatural and Divine; and thus the
phenomena of Conscience, as a dictate, avail to iU1press
the iU1agination ,vith the picture 1 of a Supreme
Governor, a Judge, holy, just, powerful, all-seeing,
retributive, and is the creative principle of religion,
as the
'-[oral Sense is the })rincilJle of ethics.
And let me here refer again to the fact, to ,vhich I
llave already dra\vn attention, that this instinct of the
mind recognizing- an external
laster in the dictate of
conscience, and imaging the thought of HÜu in the
definite impressions which conscience creates,is parallel
to that other law of, not only hUlnan, but of brute
nature, by which the presence of unseen individual
beings is discerned under the shifting shapes and
colours of the visible world. Is it by sense, or by

IOn tbe Formation of Images, vide sllpr, ch. iii. 1, pp. 27,
8.

Bt-'/Ù:j ill Olle God.

I 1 1

renson, that brutes understand the real unitic
J
Inaterial and spiritual, ,vhich are signified hy the
lights and shadows, tbe brilliant ever-changing cali.
doscope, as it tnay be caned, which pla,ys upon their
retina? Not by reason, for they have not reason; not
by sensf', because they are transcending sense; there-
fore it is an instinct. This faculty on the part of
brutes, unless ,ve were used to it, would strike us as a
great mystery. It is one peculiarity of animal natures
to be susceptible of phenomena through the channels
of sense; it is another to have in those sensible
phenoulena a perception of the individuals to ,vhich
this or that group of them belongs. rfhis perception
of individual things, amid the maze of shapes and
colours which meets their sight, is given to brutes
in large measures, and that, apparently frotll the
mOlnent of their birth. I t is by no n1ere physical
instinct, such as that ,vbich leads hinl to his D10ther
for tnilk, tbat the new-dropped lamb recognizes each
of his fello,v lalnbkins as a ,vhole, consisting of many
parts bound up in one, and, before he is an hour old,
makes e"\:perience of his and their rival individualitips.
.And much more distinctly do the horse and dog
recognize even the personality of their master. How
al
(' we to explain this apprehension of things, \vhich
are one and individual, in tLe midst of a world of
pluralities and transmutations, whether in the instance
)f brutes or again of children? But until ,ve account
for the kno,vledge which an infant has of his lnother or
his nurse, ,,-hat reason bave ,ve to take e.xception at
the òoctrinp, a8 strange and difficult, that in the dictate

J J 2 Apprchcnsio1l aud /lsseJlt lit Rcligiol,.

of cOll
cience, without previous experiences or analo..
gical rea
olling, ho is able gradually to perceive the
voic(\, or the echoes of the voice, of a ]'Iaster, living,
perBonal, and so\-ereign?
I grant, of COUl'S(\, that ,ve cannot as
ign a date, ever
so
arly, before ,vhich ho hall learned nothing at alJ,
.A711Ù forrned 110 mental associations, frolll the words and
.
conduct of tho
e who have the care of hin1. But still,
if a child ûf five or six years old, when reason is at
length fully awake, has already mastered and appro-
priated thoughts and beliefs, in consequence of their
teaching, in
llch sort as to be able to handle and
apply them familiarly, accorùing to the occasion: as
principles of intellectual action, those beliefs at the
very least lllUSt be singularly congenial to his mind, if
not connatural with its initial action. .And that such
a spontaneous reception of religious truths is common
,vith children, I shall take for granted, till I am con-
vinced that 1 am wrong in so doing. The child keenly
understands that there is a difference between right
and "Tong; and when he has done what he believes
to be ,vrong, he is con
cious that he is offending One
to WhOIll he is amenable, whotn he does not see, ,vho
sees hill1. His mind reaches forward ,vith a strong
presentill1ent to the thought of a
Ioral Governor,
sovereign over him, mindful, and just. It comes to
him Eke an impulse of nature to entertain it.
It is nlY wish to take an ordinary child, but still one
who is safe from influences destructive of his religious
instincts. Supposing he has offended his parents, he
will all alone and without effort, as if it ,vere the mosi

ßc/Ù:j" ill One God.

! I ..,
.)

natural of act
, place hiIl1Self in the pre
ence of God,
and beg of IIiIn to set hiIll right with theI11. Let us
eOD8ider huw llluch is contaiued in this siInple act.
Pirst, it involves the iInpression on his mind of an
unseen Being with whom he is in immediate relation,
and that relation so familiar that he can address
HilH whenever he him
elf chooses; next, of One
whose goodwiJ1 towards him he is assured of, aud
Cdn take for granted-nay, who loves him better, and
is nearer to hirn, than his parents; further, of One
who can hear hirn, wherevpr he happens to be, and
who caLl read his thoughts, for his prayer need not be
\.ocal; lastly, of Oue who can effect a critical change
in the
tate of feeling of others towards hiIn. That
is, we shall not be wrong in holding that this chillI
has in hi
n1Ïnù the iIl1age of an Invisible Being, who
éxercises a particular provi(ìeu('e 3lnong us, \v ho
is present every where, who is heart-reading, heart-
changing, pvel'-accessible, open to impetration. \Yhat
a strong and intimate vision of God nlust he ha\Te
alreaùy attained, if, as I have supposed, an ordinarv
trouble of rnind has the spontaneous efit'ct of leadiug
hiIll for consulation and aid to an In visible Personal
] )ower !
:\Ioreover, this image brought before his mental vision
is the image of One ,,,,ho by Ï1nplicit threat and promi
e
cOlnmands certain things 1"hich he, the same child coin-
cidently, by the SatHe act of his 111ind, approves; which
receive the aJ.ht'sion of his IDoral sense and judgment, as
fight and good. It is the image of One who is good,
inasmuch as enjoining and enforcing what is right and
,

i L.}. Apprehension and A 5SeJlt ill Reb:fioJl.

good, and who, in cOllsequpnce, not only excites in tho
child hope and fear,-nay (it may be added), gratitude
to,vards IIim, as giving a law and maintaining it by
re,vard and punishment,-but kinùles in hirn lovp to-
,vards IIinl. as J2'iving him a good law, and therefore as
being good Himself, for it is the property of goodness
to kindle love, or rath
r the very objpct of love is good-
ness; and an those distinct eletl1cnts of thp Jnoral law,
which the typical child, whom I am supposing, more or
less con
ciously loves and aprrove
,-truth, purity, jus-
tice, kindness, and the like,-al'c but shapes and a
pects
of goodness. And having in his degree a sen
ibility
towards them all, for the
akû of then) all he is 1110ved
to love the La,vgiver, who enjoins thenl upon him.
And, as he can contemplate these qualities and theír
tuanifestations under the com Juon name of goodness,
he is prepared to think of them as indivisible, corre-
lative, supplementary of each other in one and the
salne Personality, so that there is no aspect of goodness
'which God is not; and that the more, because the
notion of a perfect.ion embracing all possible excellences,
both moral anù intellectual, is e:-;pecially congenial to
the mind, and there are in fact intellectual attributes,
as ,veIl as Inoral, included in the child's image of God,
.W.:) a bove repre
en ted.
Such is tbe apprehension whieh even a child 1nay
11Rve of his Sovereign La,vgiver and Judge; w.hich is
possible in the case of children, because, at least, some
children possess it, ,vhether othérs possess it or no j
and which, when it is found in children, is found to act
promptly and keenly, by reason of the paucity of their

Be/zif ill Dlle God.

115

ideas. I t is an image of the good God, good in
Hilnself, good relatively to the child, with whatever
illCOlnplcteness; an image, before it has been reflected
on, and before it is recognized by hiln as a notion.
1.'hvugh he cannot explain or define the word" Goù,"
when told to use it. his acts sho\v that to hin1 it is
far Blore than a w'ord. He listens, indpod, with
wonder and interest to fables or tales; he has a dim,
shadowy sense of what he hears about persons and
matters of this world; but he has that within him
which actually vibrates, responds, and gives a deep
meaning to the lessons of his first teachers about the
will and the providence of God.
Ho,v far this initial religious knowledge comes
from without, and ho,v far from within, ho,v much
is natural, how much implies a special divine aid
,,,bich is above nature, we have no means of deter-
mIning, nor is it necessary for my present purpose to
determine. I am not engaged in tracing the image
of God in the mind of a child or a man to its first
origins, but showing that he can become possessed
of such an in1age, over and above an mere notions of
God, and in what that image consists. ,\Thether its
elements, latent in the mind, would ever be elicited
without extrinsic help is very doubtful; but whatever
be the actual history of the first formation of the
t1ivine image within us, so far at least IS certain, that,
by inforrua.tions external to ourselves, as time goes
on, it admits of being strengthened and itl1proved.
It, is certain too, that, ,vhether it grows brighter
and stronger, or, on the other hand, is ditnmet1,
{ 2

I 16 AppreheJlsion and Assent iu ReligioJl..
rlistorted, or obliterated, depends on each of us
individually, and on his circumstances. It IS more
than probable that, in the event, from neglect,
f['om the tpmptations of life, from bad cOlllpanions,
or from the urgency of secular occupations, the light
of the soul will fade ?,vay and die out.
len trans-
gress their sense úf duty, and gradually lose those
sentiments of slullne and fear, the natural supple-
ments of transgression, 'which, as I have said, are
the witnesses of the Unseen Judge. .And, even ,vere
it deemed impo
sible that those who had in their
first youth a genuine apprehension of IIi In, could
ever utterly lose it, yet that apprehension lllay
hecolne almost undistiuguishable frOlll an inferential
acceptance of the great truth, or may dwindle into
a lnere notion of their intellect. On the contrary,
the ÏInage of God, if duly cherIshed, may expand,
deepen, nud be cOlllpleted, \vith the growth of their
po,vers n nJ in the cour:-:o of life, uuder the varied
le

ons, witlJin and without theIn, 'which are brought
honH' to them concerning that
an1e God, One and
Personal. by n1eans of education, social intercourse,
experience, and literature.
To a 11lind thus carefully forllled upon the basis
of it
natuI'al conscience, the world, both of nature
and of Inan, does but give back a reflection of those
trcths (I.bout the One Living God, ,vhich have been
r
uniliar to it from childhood. Good and evil lllcet
us daily as wo pass through life, and t,here
ll'e
those who think it philosophical to act towards the
nlanifestatiolls of each with some
r

ilnpartiality,.

Belief in One God.

J I ï

a
if evil lwd as much right to be there as good,
or even a better, as having more striking triumphs
aud no broader jurisdiction. And becau
e the course
of things is determined by fixed laws, they con-
sider that those la\vs preclude the present agency
of the Creator in the carrying out. of particular
Issues. It is otherwise ,vith the theology of a religious
iruagination. It has a living bold on truths which are
really to be found in the \vorld, though they are not
upon the surface. It is able to pronounce by antici-
pation, what it takes a long argun1ent to prove-that
good is the rule, and evil the exception. It is able to
assume that, uniform as are the la,vs of nature, they are
consistent with a particular Providence. It interprets
,vhat it sees around it by this previous inward teaching,
as the true key of that maze of vast complica.ted dis-
order j and thus it gains a lllore and more consistent
and luminous vision of God from the most unpromising
materials. Thus conscience is a connecting principle
bptweeu tbe crea.ture and his Creator; and the firmest
hold of theological truths is gained by habits of per-
sonal religion. \Vhen men begin all their works with
the thought of God, acting for His sake, and to fulfil
His will, when they ask His ble
sing on thf'IllSelves and
their life, pray to Him for the objects they de
i('e, and
see Him in the event, whether it be according to theit.
prayers or not, they ,vill find everything that happens
tend to confirm them in the truths about Him ,,,hich
live in their irnagination, varied and unearthly as those
truths Inay be. Then they are brought into His pre-
sence as that of a Living Person, and are able to hold

118 Apprehension and Asscnt l:n Religion.

converse with Hilll, and that with a directness and sim-
plicity, ,vith a confidencp and intimacy, mutatis mutan-
dis, which we use towards an earthly superior; so that
it is doubtful whether ,ve realize th
company of our
fellow-men ,vith greater keenness than these favoured
minds are able to contemplate and adore the Unseen,
Illconlprehensible Creator.
'This vivid apprehension of religious objects, on ,vhich
I have been enlal'ging, is independent of the ,vritten
records of Revelation; it does not require any know-
ledge of Scripture, nor of thp history or the teaching of
the- Catholic ChUl'ch. It is Independent of books. But
if so Hluch IlIa)" be traced out in the twilight of S aturai
Heligion, it is obvious how' great an addition in fulness
and exactne88 is made to our mental image of the
Divine Personality and -.\ttributes, by the light vf
Christianity. .J..lnd, indeed, to give us a clear and
F'ufficient object for our faith, is one main purpose of
the supernatural Dispensations of Religion. This pur-
pose is carried out in the written \V ord, with an eH'ec-
tiveness which inspiration alone could becure, first, by
the histories which form so large a portion of the Old
Testalnent; and scarcely less impressively in the pro-
phetical system, as it is gradually unfolded and per-
fected in the writings of those who ,vere its ministers
and spokesmen. A.nd as the exercise of the affections
strengthens our apprehension of the object of them, it
is impossible to exaggerate the influence exprted on the
religious inlagination by a book of devotions so sub-
lime, so penetrating, so full of deep instruction as the
Psalter, to say nothing of other portions of the Hagio-

Bc/Ùf -ill One GOll.

119

grapha. And then as regard
the
ew Testament; tho
Go
pels, from their subject, contain a manifl'
tation of
the Divine Kature, so special, as to make it appear
from the contrast as if nothing were known of God>
when they are unknown. Lastly J the Apostolic Epis-
tlc
, the long history of the Church, with its fresh
and fresh exhibitions of Divine Agency, the Live::; of
the Saints, and the reasonings, internal collisions r
and decisions of the Theological School, form an
extended comment on the words and works of our
Lord.
I think I need not say more in illustration of the
subject which I proposed for consideration in this Sec-
tion. I have ,vished to trace the process by ,vhich the
mind arrives, not onlyat a notional, but at an imaginative
or real as
ent to the doctrine that there is One God, that
is, an assent Inadc with an apprehension, not only of
",'hat the words of the proposition mean, but of the
object denoted by them. 'Yïtbout a proposition or
thesis there can be no as
ent, no belief, at all; any more
than there can be an inference without a conclusion.
The propo::5ition that there is One Personal and Present
God Tuay be held in either ,yay j either as a theological
truth, or as a religious fact or reality. The notion and
the rehlity assented-to are represented by one and the
same proposition, but serve as distinct interpretation::;

f it. 'Yhen the proposition is apprehended for the
purposes of proof, analysis, comparison, and the like
intellectual exercises, it is used as the expression of a
}lotion; when for the purposes of devotion, it is the
Ìn1agè of a. reality. Theology, properly and directly,

I
o Apprehension and Asscnt ill Religion.

deals \vith notional apprehension j religion \vith llna-
ginative.
IIere we have the solution of the common mi::;take of
supposing that tbere is a contrariety and antagonism
bet\veen a dogmatic creed and vital religion. People
urge that salvation consists, not in believing the pro-
positions that there is a God, that there is a Saviour,
that our Lord is God, that there is a Trinity, but in
believing in God, in a Saviour, in a Sanctifier; and
they object that such propositions are but a forlllal and
hUlnan lnediunl destroying aU true reception of the
Gospel, Rnel 11laking religion a nlatter of \vords or of
logic, il1
tead of its having its
ea.t in the heart. 'rhey
are right so fa.r as this, that men can and sometilnes do
rest in the propositions thenlseh.es a
expressing intel-
lectual notions j they are wrong, when they maintain
that nlen need do so or always do so. 'rhe propositions
may and must be used, and can easily be used, as the
expression of facts, not notions, and they are necessary
to the mind in the same way that language is ever
Deces
ary for denoting facts, both for ourselves as
individuals, and for our intercourse ,vith others. Again,
they are useful in their dogmatic aspect as ascertaining
and making clear for us the truths on ,vhich the
religious imagination has to rest. Knowledge must
ever precede the exercise of the affections. 'Ve feel
gratitude and love, we feel indignation and dislike, \vhen
we have the informations actually put before us 'which
are to kindle those several enlotions. \Ve love our
parents, as our parents, when we know thern to be our
parents; we must know concerning God, before we can

Belie} Ùl Glle God.

ill

feel love, fear, hope, or trust towards Hirn. Devotion
mu
t have its objects; those objects, as being snper-
natural, when not represented to our senses by lnaterial
symbols, rnust be set before the mind in propositions.
The formula, which ernbodies a dogma. for the theo-
logian, readily Ruggests an object for the worshipper.
It
eems a truism to say, yet it is all that I have heen
saying, that in religion the imagination and affections
should always be under the control of reason. 'rheo-
logy may stand as a substantive science, though it be
without the life of religion; but religion cannot main-
tain its ground at all without theology. Sentiment,
whether iInaginative or emotional, fans back upon the
intellect for its stay, when sense cannot be called into
exercise; and it is in this way that devotion falls
back upon dogma.

J 22 Apprehcnsion a1ld A ssellt ill Religio;z.

2 . BELIEF. IN THF HOLY TRINITY.

OF course I cannot hope to carryall inquiring minds
with me in wbat I have been laying down in the fore-
going
ection. I have appealed to the testimony
gi\-en implicitly by our conscience to the Divine Being
and His ...\Jtributes, and there are those, I kno,v,
wbo
e experience will not responJ to the appeal:-
doubtless j but are there any truths ,vhich bave
reality, ,,,,hether of experience 01" of reason, ,vhich are
not disputed by some schools of philosophy or S0nle
bodies of 11len? If we assume nothing but what has
universal reception, the field of our possible discussions
,,,ill suffer luuch contraction; so that it must be con-
sidered sufficient in any inquiry, if the principles or
facts a
sumed have a large follo\ving. This condition
is abundantly fulfilled as regards the authority and
religious meaning of conscience ;-that conscience is
the voice of God has alnlost grown into a proverh.
This solemn dognla is recognized as such by the great
Blass both of the young and of the uneducated, by
the religious few and the irreligious many. It is
proclaiIned in the history and literature of nations;
it has had supporters in all ages, places, creeds,
forms of social life, professions, and classes, It has held

Beliif in the IIoly Trinity. 12 3

its ground uuùcr great intellectual and moral disad-
vantages; it has recovered it
supremacy, and
111tinlately triun1phed in the minds of those who haù
rebelled against it. Even philosophers, who have been
antagonists on other points, agree in l'Pcognizing
the inward voice of that solemn }'Ionitor, personal,
perernptory, unargnmentative, irresponsible, minatory,
definitive. This I consider relieves me of the necessity
of arguing ,vith those w.ho would resolve our sense of
right and wrong into a sense of the Expedient or the
Reautiful,or would refer its authoritative suggestions to
the effect of teaching- or of a
sociation. There are those
who can see and hear for all the common purposes of Jife,
yet have no eye for colours or their shades, or no ear for
music j moreover, there are degrees of sensibility to
colours and to souuds, in the comparison of nlan" with
luan, while SOlne n1eu are stone-blind or stone-deaf.
Again, all roen, as tinle goes on, have the prospect of
losing that keenness of sight and hearing ,vhich they
possessed in their youth; and so, in like manner, ,ve
mn,y lose in manhooù and in age that sense of a Supreme
Teacher and J udge which ,vas the gift of our first years;
aud that the Inure, becau
e in most n1en the imagina-
tion suffcrs froIn the lapse of time and the experience
of life, long before the bodily senses fail. And tbis
accords with the advice of the sacred writer to
"remember our Creator in the days of our youth,"
,vhile our llloral sensibilities ar
fresh, "before the sun
find the light and the rnoon and tbe stars be darkened,
and the clouds return after the rain." Accordingly, if
there be those who deny that the dictate of conSClCIlce

12 4 AþþrcncllslOll ana' AS5cnt ill Rcligio1l.

is ever more than a taste, or an association, it is
less
difficulty to me to believe that they are Jeficient either
in the religious sense or in their memory of early years,
than that they neyer had at all 'what those around
them ,yithout hesitation profess, in their own case, to
have received from nature.

,.

So nluch on the doctrine of the Being antI Attri-
butes of God, and of the real apprehension with ,vhich
we can conteu]plate and assent to it :-now I turn to
the doctrine of the Holy Trinity. with the purpose of
investigating in like manner how far it belongs to
theolugy, ho\v far to the faith and devotion of the
individual; ho,v far the propositions enunciating it
are confineù to the expression of intel1ectual notions,
and how far they stand for things also, and adu1Ït of
that assent 'which w'e give to objects presented to us
by the Ünagination. ...:\.nd fir
t I have to
tate what
our doctrine is.
No one is to be called a Theist, who does not believe
ill a Personal God, ,vhatever difficulty there may be in
defining the "
ord "Persona!." X ow it is the belief
of Catholics about the Supreme Being, that this
es:;ent.ial characteristic of IJis
ature is reiterated in
three distinct WRJ"'S or mod8s; so that the .Alo1Ïghty
God, instead of being' One Person only, which is the
teaching of Natural Religion, bas Three Personalities,
and is at once, according as we view Him in the one or
tbe other of them, the Father, the Son, and the Spirit
-a Divine Three, ,vho bear towards Each Other the
several relations ,vhich those names indicate, and are

Befitj ill the 110/;' Trillil)'. r 2.5

in that respoct distinct from Each Other, and in th:lt
alone.
This is the ten ching of the .L\.thanasian Creeù ; viz.
that the One PeI'
onal G')tl, ,vho is not a logical or phy-
sical unity, hut a Living fl[ona,'), more really one even.
than an indi \'i(l nal Inan is one-lIe (" un us," not
aUBuIn," becau
e of the inseparability of II is :Nature and
Personality) ,-lIe at once is Father, is Son, is Holy
Ghost, Each of whom is that One Per::;onal God in the-
fulne
s of IIis BeinO' and ...
ttributes ; so that the Father
,:')
is all that is Ineant by the ,yord "God," as if we kIlew
nothing of Son, or of Spirit; and ill like manner the-
Son and the Spirit are Each by Himself all that is
meant by the word, as if the Other Two were un-
known; moreovpr, that by the w'ord " God" is meant
nothing over and above what i
lneant by" the Father,"
or by "the Son," or by "the Holy Ghost;" ana that.
thp Fathpr iH in no sense the Son. nor the Son the
IIoly Ghost, nor the Holy Ghost the Father. Such is
the pre'
('gative of the Divine Infinitude, that that One
and Single Personal Being, the Ahnighty God, is.
really Three, ,yhile lie is absolutely One.
Indeed, the Catholic dogma rnay be said to be sUInmed
up in this very furulula, on which f=.t.
-\.ugustine lays so
nluch stre
::;, "rrres et Unus," Dot merely" Unurn ;"
hence that fornlula. i
the key-note, as it may be called,
of the Athanasian Creed. In that Creed ,ve testify to
the UllUS lncl'entu
, to the U nus Imrnensus, Oillnipo-
ten
J Dt'llS, and DOlniuns j yet Each of the Three al
o
is by Hilnsclf Increatns, InlInellsu
, Olnnipotens, for-
Each is that One God, though Each is not the Other j.

J 26 Apþrchcnslull and Asscllt ill Religion.

Each, as is intimated by Unus Increatus, is the On9
Personal God of Natural Religion.
'l'hat thi5 doctrine, thus dra,vn out, is of a notional
character, is plain j the question before nle is whether
in any sense it can become the object of real apprehen-
sion, that is, whether any portion of it may be con-
siùered as addressed tq tbe ÏIl1agination, and is able to
exert that living Inastery over the mind, which is
instanced as I have shown above, as regards the
proposition, "Then
is a God."
"
rhere is a God," when really apprehended, is the
object of a strong energetic adhesion, which works a
revolution in the mind; but when held merely as a
notion, it requires but a cold and ineffective acceptance,
though it be held ever so unconditionally. Such in its
character is the assent of thousands, whose imaginations
are not at all kindled, nor their hearts inflamed, uor
their conduct affected, by the most august of all con-
ceivable truths. I ask, then, as concerns the doctrine of
the Holy Trinity, such as I have dra\vn it out to be, is it
capable ofbeillg apprehenderlotherwisethan notionally?
Is it a theory, undeniable indeed, hut addressed to the
student, and to no one else? Is it the elabol'ate, subtle,
trilllllphant exhibition of a truth, cOlnpletely developed,
and happily adjusted, ftnd accurately balanced on its
centre, and impregnable on every side, as a scientific
view, "totus, teres, atque rotund us," challenging all
assailants, or, on the other hand, does it come to the
unlearned, the young, the busy, and the afflicted, as a
fact w!1ich is to arrest them, penetrate theIn, allù t.o 8UP-
port and anirnate them in their passage through life?

Bl:/ùf Ùz the HO{1' 7'riJli/;'. J 27

That is, does it admit of being held in the ilnagination,
and being embraced ,vith a rpal assent? 1 nUi,intain it
does, and that it is the normal faith which every
Christian has, on which he is stayed, which is his
spiritual life, there being nothing in the exposition of
the dogma, as I have given it above, which does not
address the itnagination, as well as the intel1ect.
Now let us observe what is not in that exposition ;-
there are no scientific terms in it. I will not allow that
" Personal " is such, because it is a word in comnJon
use, and though it cannot mean precisely the same
when used of God as when it is used of man, yet it is
sufficiently f\xplained by that common use, to allow of
its being intelligibly applied to the Divine X ature.
The other words, which occur in the above
ccount of
the doctrine,- Three, One, He, God, Father, Son,
Spirit,-are none of thelli ,vords peculiar to theology,
have all a popular meaning, and are used according to
that obvious and popular meaning, whpn introduced
into the Catholic dogma. K 0 human words indeed
are worthy of the SuprenJe Being, none are adequate;
but we have no other ,vords to use but hun1an, and those
in question are aU10ng the silupleRt and most intelli-
gible that are to be found in language.
There are then no terms in the foregoing exposition
which do not adn1Ït of a plain sen:-.e, and they are there
used in that sense; and, moreover, tLat sense is what I
havf\ called real, for the ,vords in their ordinary use
stand for things. The word8, Father, ;3on, Spirit, lIe,
One, anù the rest, are not. abst.ract terlns,-but concrete,
and adapted to excite images. And these words thus

128 ApþrehcJlsion aut! Asscnt Ùl ltebgz"ollo

silnple and clear, are ern bodied in simple, clear, Lril.f,
categorical propositions. There is nothing abstruse
either in the terr1l8 themselves, or in their setting. It
is otherwi
e of cour
e with forrnal theological treatises
on the subject of the doglna. 'l'here ,ve find such words
as su Lstance, es:sence, exi:.;tence, form, sa IJsistence, no-
tion, circumincession; allJ, though the:,o are far easiel.
.,
to understand than might at fir:-;t, sight be thought.
still they are doubtle
s addres:sed to the intclJect, and
can only cOInmand a notional assent.
It win be oLserved also that not even the words
" Inysteriousnes
" and " rnyster'y" occur in the expo-
sition ,vhich I bave abo\re given of the doctrinp; I
olnitted them, because tbeyare not parts of the Divine
,r erity as such, bu t in relation to creature:s and to the
hUlnan intellect; and because they are of a notional
character. It is plain of course even at first sight that
the doctrine is an inscrutable mysteJ'Y, or has an in-
scrutable luysteriousness; few minds inùpeù but have
tlH'ology enough to see this; and if an educated man,
tü whom it is presented, does not perceive that rnyste-
riousncss at once, that is a sure token tbat he does not
rightly apprehend the propositions which contain the
doctrine. Hence it follows that the thesis "the doc-
trine of the Holy Trinit.y ill Unity is mysterious" is in-
directly an article of faith. But such an article, being
a reflection 111ade upon a revealeù truth ill an inference,
expresse
a notion, not a thillg. It does not relate to
the direct apprehension of the object, but to ajuc1gment
of our reason upon the object. Accordingly the Inys-
teriousness of the doctrine is not, strictly speaking,

Belief ill the Eloly Tri1lity. 129

intrinsical to it, as it is proposed to the religious appre-
hension, though in Inatter of fact a devotioual mind, on
perceiving that mysteriousness, will lovingly appro-
priate it, as involved in the divine revelation; and, as
such a mind turns all thoughts ,vhich corne before it to
a sacred use, so will it dwell upon tho )Iystery of tho
'rrillity ,vith awe and \'eneration, as a truth befitting,
80 to t5ay, tho In1mensity and Incomprehensibility of
the
uprenle Being.
lIowever, I do not put forward the mystery as tho
direct object of real or religious apprehension; nor
again, the complex doctrine (when it is viewed, l1e}O
'lIWdlOìL 1.luillS, as one ,vhole), in which the Inystery lies.
Let it bo ob:)erved, it is po!:;sible for the lllind to hold a,
nUlnber of propositions either in their combination as
one whole, or one by one; one by one, with an intelli-
gent perception indeed of all, and of the general direc-
tion of each towards the rest, yet of each separately fronl
tho rest, for its own sake only, and not in conncxion
and one with the rest. 'rhus I may kno\v London
quite well, and find IllY way from street to street in any
part of it ,vithout difficulty, yet be quite unable to draw
a, ruap of it. Compari
on, calculation, cataloguing,
arranging, classifying, are intellectual acts subsequent
upon, and not necessary for, a real apprehension of the
things on ,vhich they are exercised.
trictly speaking
then, the dogma of the Holy 'rrinity, as a complex
whole, or as a mystery, is not the formal object of re-
ligious apprehension and assent; but as it is anum ber
of propositions, taken one by one. That complex 'v hole
also is the object of assent, but it is the notional object j
.It

I 30 A pprchcllsioll and A ssclll Ùz l?e!z
[[Ù)1t.

nna ,yhl'n presontod to religious n1ind
, it is received by
t hetlJ notionally; and again implicitly, viol. in tho real
a
::'l'Jlt which thcy give to the ,vord of God as conveyed
1 ù 1 hell1 through the instrul11cntality of IIis Ch Ul'ch.
On thesè points it Inay be right to enla.rge.
Of coursc, as I have been
ayillg, a. IHau of orùinary
11lll'lligcnco ,,'ill b('

t OllCO struck with the apparent
coutI'al'iety betwecn the propositions one ,,-ith allothl>r
,,'hich cOllstitutc tho lIeavellly l)og'lna, and, by rea
Oll
(If his spontancous activity of ])1Ïnd and by an habitual
a
soeiatioll, he will be cOtupelleù to yiew tho ])Ogllu1 in
t lil' light ()f that cOlltrariety,-so llluch so, that to hold
(IHe and all üfthc
e separate propositions will be to such
a llWU all OIlO with holding' the luyslery, as a IllJ
tery j
au d ill COlL
pqlLence he ,yill f'0 hold it j-but still, I say,

u far he will hold it ullly ,,,ith i1 llotional apprehcn!Sion.
]le wi1l accuratel y take in tho lllealliu o ' of each of the

dllgulatic propo
itiolls in its relation to the rcst of theu1,
coull.>Íning thcrn into one wholo and clnbracing what ho
cannot realizc, with an asscllt, J10tional inùecù, but as
gClluinc and thorough a
any real ass(\nt can be. J3ut
1 he quc5tioll is whether a real assent to the lny
tcr.r, as
'-'liCIt is l )ossible. anù I sav it is llot P os
iLlc because
n, , J J'
thuugh ,vp can Í1113ge the separate propositions, ,ve C3U-
)lot Ï1nugc tllelu altogether. '\T e cannot, because the
mystcry transcelllls aU our üxperience; we have no
experiences in our nlemory ,vhich ,ve can put together,
cOlupare, contrast, unite, and thereby tranSIllute into fin
iU1age of the Ineffable \r el'ity j-certainly ; but ,vhat is
in SOI11e ùegree a matter of experience, ,vhat is presented
for the iUlaglnatioll, the affections, tho devotion, the

Belief ill the I Ioly T rillity. 131

spiritual life of the Christian to repose upon ,vith a real
assent, what stands for things, not for notions only, is
each of those propositions taken one by one, and that,
not in the case of intellectual and thoughtful minds only,
but of all religious minds whatever, in the case of a
chilù or a peasant, as well as of a philosopher.
rrhis is only one instance of a general principle ,vhich
holds good in all such real apprehension as is possible
to us, of God and His Attributes. X ot only do ,ve see
Hiul at best only in shadows, but we cannot bring even
those shadows together, for they flit to and fro, and are
nrver present to us at once. 'Ve can indeed conlbino
tho various 111atters which wo know of Him by an act
of the intellect, and treat them theologically, but such
theological combinations aro no objects for the imagina-
tion to gaze upon. Our image of Him never is one,
but broken into numberless partial aspects, independent
each of each. As we cannot see the ,vhole starry fir-
mament at once, but have to turn ourselves from east
to ,vest, and then round to east again, sighting first ono
constellation and then another, and losing these in order
to gain those, so it is, and much Inore, with such real
apprehensions as we can secure of the Divino .Nature.
\Ye know one truth about Him and another truth,-
but 've cannot image both of them together; ,ve cannot
bring them before us by one act of th
mind; we drop
the Olie while ,ve turn to take up the other. None of
them are fully dwelt on and enjoyed, when they are
\"ie,ved in combination.
Ioreo,er, our devotion is tried
and confused by the long list of propositions which
theology is obliged to dra,v up, by the limitations,
K

132 Aþþrchells'ioll and Asscllt ill Religion.

explanations, definitions, adjustments, ba]ancings,
cautions, arbitrary prohibitions, \vhich are in1peratively
required Ly the weakness of human thought and the
iluperfections of hUlnan languages. Such exercises of
reasoning indeed do but increa<;e and harn10nize onr
notional a pprehensioll of the dogma, but they add
little to the IUluiuousness and vital force ,vith \vhich
its separate propositions COlno home to our ilnagina-
tion, and if they are necessary, as they certainly are,
they are necessary not so much for faith, as against
U 11 be lief.
Break a ray of light into its constituent colours, each
is beautiful, each may be enjoyed; attclupt to unito
thenl, and perhaps you proùuce only a dirty white. Tho
pure and indivisible Light is Beon only by the blessed
inhabitants of heavcn; here ,ye have Lut such faint
rcflections of it as its diffraction supplies; but they are
sufficicnt for faith anù devotion. Attempt to combine
them into one, and you gain nothing but a mystery,
,vhich you can describe as a notion, but cannot depict as
an imagination. Anù this, ,vhich holds of the Divine
.1.
ttributes, holùs also of the Holy Trinity in Unity.
l\..ncl hence, perhaps, it is that the latter doctrine is never
8poken of as a
Iystery in the sacred book, ,vhich is ad-
dressed far nlore to the imagination and affections than
to the intellect. Hence, too, ,vhat is more remarkable,
in the Creeds the dogma is not called a mystery; not in
tho Apostles' nor theKicene, nor even in theAthanasian.
The reason seoms to be, that the Creeds have a place in
the Ritual; they are de\otional acts, and of the nature
of praYPfs, addressed to God; and, in such addresses, to

Belief iu the Holy TrÙl1:ty. 133

Bpeak of intellectual difficulties 'would be out of place.
It must he rccol1ccted especial1y that the
\.thanasian
Creed ha
sometimes been caUed the "Psaln1us Qui-
cu:nquc." It is not a Incre collection of notions, ho\vcver
mOlnentons. It is a psalm or hymn of praise, of
confession, and of profound, self-prostrating hOlnage,
paral1el to the canticles of the elect in the ___tpocalypse.
It appeals to the itnagination quite as much as to the
intellect. It is the war-song of faith, with which we
warn first ourselves, then each other, and then all
those who are within its hearing, and tho hearing of
the Truth, \vho our God is, and how ,ve must worship
IIim, and how vast our responsibility will 1e, if ,ve
kno\v ,vhat to believe} and yet believe not. It is

"The Psalm that gatbers in one glorious lay
All chants that e'er from heavcn to earth found \\ ay ;
Creeù of the Saints, and .Anthem of tbe Blest,
And calm-breathed warning of the kindliest love
That e"cr heaved n wakeful mother'g breast,"

For D1yself, I have ever felt it a
the most simple
and sublimp, the most devotional formulary to which
Christianity has given birth, more so even than the
lTeni Creator and the Te Dell1n. Even the antitbetical
forn1 of its sentence
} ,,,hich is a stun1bling-block to

o 1nanr, as seeming to force, and to exult in forcing
a Inystery upon recalcitrating Inind
, Las to Iny appre-
hension, even notionally considered, a very different
drift. It is intended as a check upon our l"pasonings,
lest they rush on in one direction beyond the limits of
the truth, and it turns theln back into the opposite
ùirection. Certainly it in1plies a glorying in the

134 Apprehension a1ld A SSCllt 'ill Religion.

1\IysterYj but it is not simplya statement of the
Iystery
for the sake of its nlysteriousness.
"-hat is more remarkable still, a like silence as to
the Inysteriousness of the doctrine is observed in tho
succcssi \yo definitions of the Church concerning it.
Confession after confession, canon after canon is
ilra,vn up in the co
rse of centuries; Popes anù
Councils haye founù it thcir duty to insist afresh upon
the doglna; they have cnunciated it in new or
aùùitiollal propositions; but not even in their 1110st
elaborate formularies do they use the ,vorù "nlystcry ,"
as far as I know. The great Council of 'foleùo
pursues the scientific reunifications of the doctrinc'
with the exact diligence of theology, at a length four
tiInes that of the Athallasian Creed j tho fourth
Lateran cOlnplctes, by HI final enunciation, the ùevclop-
1ncnt of tho sacred tloctrine after the mind of St.
Augustine; the Creed of ])ope Pius 1\7". prescribes the
general rule of faith against the heresies of these
latter tinles j but in none of thcIn do 'we find either
the ,vora "mystery," or any suggestion of Inysterious-
Dess.
Such is the usage of the Church in its dogmatic
statements concerning the IIoly Trinity, as if fulfilling
the maxim," Lex oralldi, lex credendi." I suppose
it is foundC'd on 3 tradition, because Ule custom is
othC'rwise as regards catechisms and theological
treatises. 'These belong to particular ages and places,
and are addressed to the intellect. In them, certainly,
the mysteriousness of the doctrine is almost uniformly
insisted OD. But, ho,vever this contrast of usage is

Bcl/cf ill the IIoly TriJlz!.J'. 135

to be explaincd, the Creeds are enough to show that
t.he ùognut may bo taught in its fulness for the pur-
poses of popular faith and ùevotioll without directly
illsi
tillg 011 that mysteriousness, ,,,hich is necessarily
involved in the combined vie,v of it:-; separate pro-
po:-:ition
. That systetuatizeù whole i:; the object of
notion:1l assent, and its propositions, one by onc, aro
the objects of real.
To ::;how this in fact, I will enumerate the sepal'nto
propositions of ,vl1Ïch the dogma consists. 'rhey are
ninc, and stand as follows :-
1. Thel'o are Three who givc testÎ1nony in lleav011,
the Fatl1er, the ",r orJ or Son, and the ITaly Spieit.
2. From the :Father is, and ever has been, th

on.
3. FraIn the Father and Son is, anù ever has been, the
Spirit.
1. rrhe Father is the One !:ternal Personal Goù.
5. The Son is the One Eternal Per
onal God. 0. The
Spirit i
the One Eternal Per;o;onal God.
7. Tho }'athe1' is not the Son. 8. TIH
Son is not
tIle 1101y Ghost. D. Tho 110ly Ghost i
not the
l
athe1'.
N ow I think it IS a. fact, that, ,vhcrca
these nino
propositions contain the J[YRtery, yet, taken, not ag
a whole, but separately, each by itself, thpy are not
only apprehensible, but admit of fI rL
ll appl'chel1
ion.
Thus, for instance, if the proposition" '['hel'0 i" Ono
,,'110 hcal'
,vitness of lIimself," or "reveals lIinlself:'
,,
o111il athnit of a real a

ent, why does not al
o tho
proposition" There are Threo ,yho bear witness " ?
Again, if the word" God" nlay create an in

ge in

136 Aþþrcllellsio1 aNd Asscnt -ill Rel/g-jolt.

our lllinds, ,,-hy may not the proposition" The Father
is God"? or again, " rrhe Son," or " The IIoly Ghost
is God" ?
Again, to say that" the 80n is other than the IToly
Ghost," or" neither Son nor IToly Gho
t i
the Fathpr,"
i
not a simple negative, but also
b declaration that
Each of the ))ivine rYbree by IIinlself is cODlplcte in
1[Ï1nself, and siulply and absolutely God as though the
Other T,vo "
ere not rev'ealctl tv us.
Again, froln our experience of the works of lllan, ,ve
ncccpt ,vith a real apprehension the proposition" rrhe
Angels are nladc by Goù," correcting the "
ord" made,"
fiq is required in the case of a creating l")ower, (Lnd a
spiritual "ork :-why then may ,ve not in like Inatter
refine and l'lcvah'\ the human analogy, yet keep the
Ï1o:lge, ,,-hen a Divine Birth is set before us in tern1S
,vhich properly belong to ,,
hat is human and earthly?
If our experience enables us to apprehend the essential
fact of sonsLip, as being a cOlnmuuicatioll of being and
of nature frolu one to another, \v hy should ,vo not there-
Ly in a certe-in measure realize the proposition" rrhe
'V ord is the Son of God"?
Again, "e Lave abundant instances in nature of tho
gCllcralla" uf one thing coming from another or from
othcr
:-as the child issues in the man as his quasi
SlH.:c:e::;
or, and the child and the man issue in the old
luan, like them both, but not the same, so different as
almost to have a fresh personality distinct froln each,
so ,ve lnay fornl sonle image, howev
r vague, of the
procession of the Holy Spirit from Father and Son.
'l'his is ,,-hat I should say of tbe propositions ,yhich I

Belief ;Ùz the .fIoly Trinity. 137

have numbered two and three, which are the least
susceptible of a real assent out of the nine.
So 1l1uch at first sight; but the force of what I bave
l)ccn saying will be best understood, by considering
what Scripture and the Ritual of the Church 'witness
in accordance with it. In referring to these two great
store-houses of faith and devotion, I must premise, as
,,-hen I spoke of the Being of a God, that I am not
PI'oving by means of them the dogma of the llo]y

rrinity, but using the one and the other in illustra..
tion of the action of the separate articles of that
dogma upon the Ï1naginatiol1, though tho complex
truth, in which, when combined, they issue, is not
in sympathy or correspondence with it, but altogethel.
beyond it; and next of the action and influence of
those separate articles, by means of the imaginat.ion,
upon the affections and obedience of Christians, high
anJ low'.
This being understood, I ask what chapter of St,
John or St. Paul is not fun of the Three Divine N an1(
sJ
introduced in one or other of the above nine proposi-
tions, expressed or implied, or in their parallels, or in
parts or equivalents of t.hem? \Vhat lesson is there
given us by these two chief ,vriters of the X ew Tcsta-
11lent., 'which does not grow out of Their Persons and
Thcir Offices? At one tilne "re read of the grace of the
8econd Person, the lovp of the First, aud the COlnn1U-
nication of the Third; at another ,ve are told by the
Son, U I will pray the Father, anel He will senù you
another Paraclete;" and then, U ....
ll that the Father
haUl are )Iine j the Paraclete shall receive of )Iine."

138 .Aþþrchcllsio1t a1ld Assent ill Relig'io1t.

Then again we read of "the foreknow1edge of the
Father, the sanctification of the Spirit, the Blood of
Jesus Christ;" and again we are to " pray in the Holy
Ghost, abide in the love of God, and look for the mercy
of J esns." ..A.nd so, in like manner, to Each, in one
passage or another, arc ascribetl the same # titles and
works: Each is ncknò,vledged as Lord; Each is eternal;
Each is 'Truth; I
ach is IIolincss; Each is all in all;
Each is Creator; Each ,vills with a supreme "\Vïll;
Each is the ....\.uthor of the new birth; Each speaks in
Ilis ministers; :Each is the Revealer; Each is the La,,'-
giver; Each is the Teacher of the elect; in ]
ach the
elect bave fellowship; Each leads them on; Each raises
them from tI1C dead. ,rhat is aU this, but" the Father
Eternal, tho Son Eternal, and the Iloly Ghost r
ternal;
the Father,
Ol1, anù 110]y Ghost OUlnipotent; the
Fathcr, Son, allù IIoly Ghost God," of the ....\.thanasian
Creed? ..A.TId if tho N e,v 'l'estament be, as it con-
fessedly is, so real in its teaching, so luminous, so
inlpressivo, so constraining, so full of images, so
sparing in mere notions, ,,-hence is this but because,
in its references to the Object of our supreme ,vor-
ship, it is eyer ringing the changes (so to say) on
the nine propositions which I have set down, and
on the particular statelnents into ,vhich they Dlay be
severalIy resolved?
Take one of them as an instance, viz. the dog-
matic sentence (( The Son is God." "\Vhat an illus-
tration of the real assent which can be given to this
proposition, and its power over our affections and
en1otions, is the first half of the first chapter of St.

Belief ill the IIoly Tri1lit),_ 139

John's gospel! or again the vision of our Lord in
the first chapter of the Apocalypse! or the first
chapter of St. John's first Epistle! .L\.gain, ho,v
burning are St. Paul's ,vords ,vhen he speaks of our
Lorù's crucifixion and ùeath! ,vhat is the secret of
t1n1t flan1ü, but this same doglnatic sentence, "The
Sun is God"? wIlY should the death of the Son be
11101'0
nvful than any other death, except that 110
though man, was God? And so, again, all through
the Old '.restament, ,vhat is it which gives an inter-
pretation and a persuasive power to so many pas_
sages and portions, especially of the Psalms and tho
l
rophets, but this same theological formula, "The

Iessias is God," a proposition ,vhich never could
thus vivify in the religious mind the letter of tho
sacred text, unless it appealed to the imagination, and
could be held with a much stronger assent than any
that is merely notiona1.
This same po,yer of the dogma nlay be il1ustrated
from the 11itl1al. Consider the services for Chrishnas
or Epiphany; for Easter, Ascension, and (I may Ray)
pre-elninentJy Corpus Christi; ,vhat are these great
Festivals hut comnlents on tho ,vorà
, "The Son i

God"? Yet who win say that they have tho subtlety,
the aridity, the coldness of Inere scholastic sciencp?
Are they aùdressed to the pure inteUect. or to tho
Ï1nagiuation? ùo they interest our logical faculty, or
c'\:cite our devotion? '\""hy is it that personally ,ve
often find ourselves
o in-fitted to take part in them,
except that 've are not good enough, that in our caso
the dogma is far too much a theological notion, far too

14- 0 Apþrehcnsion and A sscut ,i,l, Religion.

little an Ï1nage living ,vithin us ? And so again, as to
the Divinity of the IIoly Ghost: consider the breviary
offices for Pcntecost and its Octave, the grandest, per-
haps in the 'whole year; are they created out of Inere
abstractions and inferences, or ,vhat are sometimes
called metaplJysical distinctions, or has not the cate-
gorical proposition of St. Athanasius, "The 110ly
Ghost is God," such a place in the ilnagination and the
b(,3rt, as sufiìces to give birth to the noble Hymns,
Treni Creator, anù JTe},i Sancte Spi1.it1ls ?
I sum up then to the same effect as in the preceding
Section. J1eligion has to do with the real, and the real
is the particular; theology has tú ÙO ,vith what is
notional, anù the notional is the general and syste-
matic. llence theology has to do ,vith the Dogma of
the Holy rrrinity as a ,vhole maùe up of many propo-
sitions; Lut lleligion ha
to do with each of those
separate propositions w'hich compose it, and lives and
thrives in the contemplation of them. In them it finds
the 1110tives for devotion and faithful obeùience; ,vllile
theology on the other band forms ana protects then1
by virtue of its function of regarding them, not merely
one by one, but as a system of truth.
One other remark is in place here. If the separate
articles of the .Athanasian Creed are so closely con-
nected ,vith vital and personal religion as I have sho\vn
thenl to be, if they supply motives on which a man may
act, if they determine the state of ll1ind, the special
thoughts, affections, and habits, 'which he carries with
him from this ,vorld to the next, is there cause to
wonder, that tl1e Creed should proclaim aloud, that

Bclief Ùl the IIoly Trinity. 141

those who aro not internally such as Christ, by Ineans
of it, camo to n1ako theIn, are not capable of tho
hC:1\
cn to which lIe died to bring them? Is not the
importance of accepting the dogma the very explana-
tion of that careful u1inuteness ,vith which the few
FiJllplo truths which compose it are inculcntcù, aro
reiterated, in the Creed? And shall the Church of
Goù, to whonl "the di
pensation" of tho Gospel i

cotnn1itted, forget the concolnitant obligation, "\Y 00
is unto me if I preach not the Go
pel"? Are her
ministers by their silence to bring upon thell1selves the
Prophet's aunthenHt, " Cur:3ed is he that doth the work
of the Lord deceitfully"? Can they ever forget tho
lesson conveyed to thel11 in the Apostle's protestation,
" God is faithful, as our preaching which was among
you was not Yea and Kay. . . . }'or 've are a good
odour of Christ unto God in them that are in the "
ay
uf salvation, and in them that are perishing. }-'or ,ve
are not as the nlany, who adulterate the word of God;
but with sincerity, but as from God, in the presence of
God, so speak we in Christ " ? 2

I Tïde Kote II. at the end of the vo1
mc.

I

142 Apprehellsioll all(l Assent i,l Religio1t.

3. BELIEF IN DOG1tIATIC THT::OLOOY.

.

Ir is a. f::uniliar chargo aga.inst the C'l,tholic Church In
the Inouth
of her opponcnt
, that she ilnposes on hel.
children as [Hatters of faith, not only such ùognuts as
Laye an intiluato bcaring on Inoral conùuct ana
character, but a. great numùer of doctrines which none
but professed theologians can unùerstand, and which
ill consequence ùo but oppress the Inind, and are the
perpetual fuel of controversy. The first ,vho made
thi
cOIllPlaint \vas no less a 111an than tho great
Constantine, anù on no less an occasion than the rise
of tho Arian heresy, w'hich lIe, as yet a catechumen,
,vas pleased to consider a trifling and tolerable error.
So deciding the matter, he \vrote at once a letter to
Alexander, Bisl:op of Alexanùria, and to Arius, who
was a presL).tcr in the same city, exhorting them
to drop the matter in dispute, and to live in peace
with one another. lie ,vas answered by the n1ect-
ing of the Council of Nicæa, and by the insertion
of the word" Consubstantial" into the Creed of the
Church.
\Yhat the Emperor thought of the controversy itself,.
that Bishop Jeremy Taylor thougùt of the insertion of
the H Consubstantial," viz. that it was a n1Íschievous
affair, and ought never tQ :þav
taken place. He thus

Belief'ill DogJJlatic Theology. 143

quotes and COlnmcnts on the Emperor's letter: "Tho
Epi
t1e of Constantine to Alexander ana Arius tells tho
truth, ana chides thell1 both for commencing the queb-
lion, ...\lexander for broaching it, Arius for taking it up.
,1\ nJ although thi
be true, that it had been better for
the Church it had never begun, yet, being begun, what
is to be done with it ? Of this also, in that admiral)le
cpi
t]e, we have the Eluperor's judgment (I suppose not
without the advice and privity of Hosins), . . . for first
he calls it a certain vain piece of a question, ill begun anù
luore unaùvisedly published,-a f!uestioll which no la\v
or ccclesi;l
tical canon defineth; a fruitless contention;
the product of idle brains; a nlatter so nice, so obscure,
so intricate, that it ,vas neither to be explicated by tho
clergy nor understooù by the people; a dispute of
worùs, a doctrine 'inexplicable, but most ùangerous
when taught, lest it introduce discord or blasphelllY ;
alld, therefore" the objector ,vas rash, and the answer
unadvised, for it concerned not the substance of faith
ur the worship of God, nor the chief comnlandnlent of
Scripture; and, therefore, why should it be the matter
of di
corJ? for though the Inatter be grave, yet,
because neither necessary nor explicable, the conten-
tion is trifling and toyish. . . . So that the ll1alter
1eing of no great importance, but vain and a toy in
respect of the excellent blessings of peace and charity
it were good that Alexander and Arius should leavo
contending, keep their opinions to thenlselves, ask
each other forgiveness, and give mutual toleration." 1
Moreover, Taylor is of opinion that" they both did
J Libcrt)" of Propllc8Jing,
2.

144 Apprche1lsioll and Asscnt t-11. Religion.

believe One God, and the Iloly Trinity j" an opinion in
the teeth of historical fact. Also ho is of opinion, that
cc that faith is best which hath greatest siu1plicity, and
that it is better in all cases humbly to submit, than
curiously to iuquire and pry into the lllystery under the
cloud, and to hazard. our faith by improving- kno'v-
ledge." He is, furt4.er, of opinion, that" if the Kicene
}'athers had done so too, pos
ibly the Church would
never have repented it." ITe also thinks that their
insertion of the" Consubstantia.l " into the Creed ,vas
a bad preceùent.
"\ rhcther it ,vas likely to act as a precedent or not, it
has not been so in fact, for fifteon huudreù years havo
passed sinco the Nicene Council, anù it is the one
instance of a
cientific word having been introduced
into tho Creed fronl that day to this. And after alJ,
tho ,yord in question has a plain lllcanillg, as the
Council used it, easily stated and intelligible to all; for
" cousub
tr

tial with the :E'ather," Dleans nothing 1110re
than" really one with the Father," being aùopteJ to
Ineet the evasion of the ...\.rians. Tho Creed then rell1aillS
now ,vhat it was in the beginning, a popular form of
faith, suited to every age, class, and condition. Its
ù.eclarations aro categorical, brief, clear, elementary, of
the first importance, expressive of the concrete, tho
ohjects of real apprehension, and the basis and rule of
devotion. As to the proper Nicene formula itself,
excepting the one term f( Consubstantial," it has not :Ii
".ord "rhich does not relate to the rudimental facts of
Christianity_ The Niceno-Constantinopolitan and the
various ante-Nicene Symbols, of which the Apostles'

Bel/if ill DOgJllll/ic Thco!t
),. 1--1-5

i
one, add summarily one or tw'o notional articles, such
as "the COHll11union of
a,ints," and" t.he fOI'g-iveness of
sins," which, however, lnay be rea<1ily converted into
real propo
itionR. On the other hanJ, one chief doglna,
which is easy to popular apprehension, is necessarily
ab3ent froln all of them, the Real Pl'osence; but the
omission is owing to the ancient " Disci plina A.rcani ,"
which withhelù the Sacredl\Iystery froln catechumens
and heathen, to whom the Creed was known.
öo far tbe cluLl'ge which Taylor brings forward bas
no great plausibility j but it is not the whole of his
case. I canllot deny that a large and ever-increasing
collection of propositions, abstract notions, not concrete
truths, becolne, by the successive defiJ!itions of Councils,
a portion of the creLlenda, and have an imperative clain}
upon the faith of every Catholic j and this being the
case, it will be asked IDe how I am borne out by facts
in enlarging, as I have done, on the silnplicity and
directne:5s, on the tangible reality, of the Church's
ùogmatic teaching.
I will suppose the objection urged thus :-wh'y has
not the Catholic Church limited her credcnrla to
propositions such as those in her Creeù, concrete and
practical, easy of apprehension, and of a character to
win as
ent? :-:uch as" Christ is Goll;" "This is l\ly
BoJy j" "HaptisIn gives life to the soul j" "The
Saints intercede for us j" "Death, judgment, heaven,
hell, the four last thing=' j" "rfhere are seven giit
of
the Huly Ghost," "three theological virtue:-:," "seven
capital sins," and the like, a.s thpy are fonnd in h
r
ratechisllls. On the contrary, she make;:; it imperative
L

J t6 rlpþreheJlsioll lillti ASie1lt Ùl l-(el
gl.OIl.

()n everyone, priest and la.YInan, to profess as revpaled
truth all the canons of the Councils" and innumerable
<lecisions of Popes, propositions so various, so notional,
that but few can kno,v them, and fewer can understand
them. \rhat sense, for instance, can a child or a
peasant, nay, or any ordinary Catholic, put upon the
'rriùentine Canons, even in translation? such a
,
4( Siquis ilixerit hon1Ïnes sine Christi justitiâ, per quaill
1l0bis lneruit, justificari, aut per eaIll ipsarll formaliter
jl1stos esse, anathenla sit j" or H 8iqui::; dixerit justifi-
catunl peccare, ùunI iutuitu æternæ rnercedis bene
úperatur, anathclna. sit." Or again, consider the very
flnathemati
nl anne:xed by th
Nicene Cuuncil to its
Creed, the language of which i
SO obscure, that even
theologians differ about iis nlcaning. It runs as
follows :-" Those who say that once the Son was not,
and before He was begotten He ,vas not, and that He
,vas nlade out of that which was not, or who pretf\nd
that He was of other hypostasis or substance, or that
the Son of God is creatE\d, mutable, or alterable, the
Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church anathematizes."
"These doctrinal enunciations are de fide; peasants are
bound to believe t.hem as ,yell as controversialists, and
to believe them as truly as they believe that our Lord
is God. Ho,v then are f he Catholic creilenda easy aua
,vit hin reach of all men?
I begin Iny ans\ver to this objection by recurring to
'what has already beeu said concerning the relation of
theology with its notional propositions to religious and
(lpvotional assent. Devotion is excited doubtless by
t.he plain, categorical truths of revelation, such as the

ßt:lief l1l Dog1Jzatic Theology. 147

{lrticles of the Creed; on these it depends; with these
it is satisfieù. It accepts them one by one; it is care-
les8 about intellectual consistency; it draws from each
()f them the spiritual nourishment which it ,vas in-
tended to supply. Far different, certainly, is the
nature and duty of the intellect. It is ever active,
inquisitive, penetrating; it examines doctrine and
d.octrine; it compare
, contrasts, and forms them into
.a science; that science is theology. Now theological
science, being thus the exercise of the il1tellect upon
the credenda of revelation, is, though not directly
devotional, at once natural, excellent, and necessary.
It is natural, because the intellect is one of our highest
faculties; excellent, because it is our duty to use our
faculties to the full; necessary, because unless we apply
our intellect to revealed truth rightly, oth{1rs will exer-
eise their minds upon it wrongly. Accordingly, the
Catholic intellect makes a survey and a catalogue of
the doctrines contained in the depositum of revelation,
as committed to the Church's keeping; it locates,
adjusts, defines them each, and brings them together
into a whole. )Ioreover, it takes particular aspects or
portions of them; it analyzes them, whether into first
principles really such, or into hypotheses of an
illustrative character. It forms generalizations, and
give
narnes to them. All these deductions are true,
if rightly deduced, because they are deduced from
w hat is true; and therefore in one sense they are a
port.ion of the depositum of faith or credenda, while
in another sense they are a.dditions to it: howe\-er,
.additions {Jr not.. they llave, I readily grant, the
L 2

148 1 Þþreht"1lszoJl tlnd /1 sse1lt Ùl I(cliglOJl.

char
ll.tt'ri
tic disadvantage of being abstract and
notiollal statement::;.
N or is this all: the di
avowal of error is faI" more
frll itful in additions than the enEorcenlent of truth.
There is another
ct of deductions, inevitable also, and
also part or not part of the revealed credenda, accord-
ing as w'e please to vie\v theIne If a proposition is
true, its contraùictory io::> false. If then a man believes
that Chri::;t is God., he believes also, and that neces-
sarily, tllat to say lIe is not God is false, and that those
\vho so say are in error. Here then again the prospect
opens upon us of a conntle
s nlll1titut1e of proposit.ions,
which in their first elements àI'e clo:3e upon devotional
tl'uth,-of gronps of propositions, and those groups
divergent, int1ependent, ever springing' into life with
an inexhau:stible fecundity, according to the ever-
germinating forms of heresy, of \vhich they are
the antagonist
. rfhese too have their place in theo-
logical science.
Such is t.heology in contrast to relIgIon; and as.
follo\vs frolll the circumstances o:f its forulation, though
some of its statements ea::;ily find equivalents In the-
language of ùevotion, the greater number of theln are
more or le

unintelligible to the ordinary Catholic, as
la\v-books to the private citizen. .A..lld especially those-
portions of theology which are the indirect creation, not.
of orthodox, but. uf heretical thought, such as the repu-
diatiolls of error contained in the Canons of Councils,.
of which specinlens bave been given above, will ever-
be foreign, strange, and hard to t.he pious but uncontro-
versiallllind; for what have good Christians to do, in.

ßebif'ill D{JgJllatic Theology. 1-1-9

the ordinary course of things, with the subtle halluci-
nation
of the intellect? rrhis is manife...:t from the
nature of the ca
e; but then the question recur!', why

hould the refutations of heresy be our objects of faith?
if no n1ind, theological or not, can believe what it can-
not understand, in w hat sense can the Canons of
Councils and other ecclesiastical determinations be in-
cluded in those credpnda which the Church presents to
every Catholic as if apprehensible, and to which every
Catholic gives his firn1 interior a
sent?
In solving this difficulty I ".ish it first observeJ,
that, if it is the duty of the Church to act as "the
piìlar and ground of the Truth," she is n1anifp
tl.Y
obliged frorH tilne to tirtle, and to the end of t.ime,
to denounce opinions incompatible \vith that truth,
whenever able and subtle n1Ïnds in her comrl1union
venture to publish such opinions. buppose certain
Bishops and priests at this day lJegan to teach that
Islan1Ïsnl or Buddhi
nl wa
a direct and imtne<1iate
revelation from God, she would bo bound to use the-
Huthority which God has given her to declare that
such a propo::;i
ion will not stand with Christianity,
and that tho
e who hold it are none of hers; and
"he would be bound to impose such a declaration OIl
t hIlt very knot of persons \V ho had committed theln-
selves to the novel propo:sition, in order that, if they
would not recant, they lnight be separated from her
communion, as they were separate from her faith. In
such a ca:5e, her Ina
ses of popula tion would either not
hear of the controversy, or they would at once take
part with 11el", and without effort take any test, which

150 Aþpreh
llS1'on and Assent in Religion.

fSecured the exclusion of the innovators; and she on
the other hand would feel that ,,,hat is a rule for some
Catholics must be a rule for all. Who is to draw the
line between who are to acknowledge tlutt rule, and
who are not? It is plain, there cannot be two rules
of faith in the same communion, or rather, as the case
really ,vonld be, an endless variety of rules, coming
into force according to the multiplication of heretica]
theories, and to the degrees of knowledge and varieties
of sentilllent in individual Catholics. There is but
one rule of Ll,ith for all; and it ,vould be a greater
difficulty to allo\v of an uncertain rule of faith, than
(if that was the alternative, as it is not), to impose
upon uneducated minds a profession which they cannot
understand.
But it is not the necessary result of unity of pro-
fession, nor is it the fact, that the Church ilnposes
dognlatic statements on the interior assent of those who
cannot appre11pnd theln. The difficulty is removed
hy the dognHL of the Church's infallibility, and of the
consequent duty of " implicit f.'ìith " in her word. rfhe
"One Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church" is an
article of the Creed, and an article, which, inclusive
of her infallibility, all mel
, hig-h and lo,v, can easily
master and accept with a real and operative assent.
It stands in the place of all abstruse propositions in a
Catholic's mind, for to believe in her word is virtually
to believe in thenl all. Even what lIe cannot under-
stand, at least he can believe to be true; and he
believes it to be true because he believes in the
Chnrch.

Belief in DogJJzatic Thcolog)'. 15 1

The rationale of this provision for unlearned devo-
tion is a
follows :-It stands to reason that all of us,
learned and unlearned, are bound to believe the whole
revea]eù doctrine in all its parts and in all that it
illiplies according as portion after portion is brought
home to our
onsciol1sness as belonging to it; and it
also stanùs to reason, that a doctrine, so deep and so
various, as the revealed depnsitum of faith, cannot be
brought home to us and made our own all at once. No
mind, however large, however penetrating, can directly
and funy by one act understand anyone truth, however
sill1ple. "
hat can be n10re intelligible than that
"....\.leX<lllder conquered Asia," or that" V pracity is a
duty"? but what a multitude of propositions is in-
cluded unc1pr either of these theses! sti1l, if we profess
either, we profess all that it includes. Thus, as regards
the Catholic Creed, if we really believe that our Lord
is God, ,ve believe all that is Ineant by such a belief;
or, el
e, we are not in earnest, when we profess to
believe the propo:,ition. In the act of believing it at
all, we forthwith commit ourselves by anticipation to
believe truths which at present we do not believe,
because they Lave never come before us ;-we liu1Ït
henceforth the range of our private judglnent in pros-
pect by the conditions, ,,
hatever they are, of that
dogma. 'rhus the Arians said that they believed in
our Lord's divinity, but 'v hen they \vere pressed to
confess His eternity, they denied it: thereby showing
in fact that tbey never had believed in His divinity at
all. In other words, a Iuan who really believes in our
Lurd ''J proper divinity, believes Únplicitè in His eternit.y.

152 Apprehensioll and Assent -in Rctigio;':,.

And so, in like manner, uf the whole aepo.
itum of
faith, or the revealed word:- If ,ve believe in thE'
revelation, we believe in ,vhat is revealed, in all that is
revealed, ho,vever it Inay be brought home to us, by
reasoning or in any other way. Ile who believes that
Christ is the Truth, and that the Evangelists are truth-
fn 1, believes all that lIe has
aid through them, though
he bas only read St. :1Iatthew and has not read St.
John. lIe who believes in tbe depositiun of Revela-
tion, believes in all the doctrines of the depositum.;
and since he cannot kno\v thClll all at once, he know

son1e doctrines, and does not kno\y others; he 111ay
know only the Creed, nay, perhaps only the ch ief por-
tions of the Creed; but, whether he know
little or
D1uch, he has the intention of believing all tbat there
is to believe whenever and as soon tL!:) it is brought
home to him, if he believes in Revelation at all. All
that he knows no'v as revealed, a.nd all that he shall
know, and all that there is to know, he em braces it aU
in his intention by one act of faith; otherwise, it is but
an acciùent that be believes this or that, not because
it is a revelation. 'This virtual, interpretative, or pro-
spective belief is called a believing il1lplicitè; and it
follo\vs from this, that, g anting tbat the Canons of
Councils and the other ecclesiast.ical documents anù con-
fe
sions, to which I have referred, are really involved
in the depositu'11L or revealed word, every Catholic, in
accepting the depositnnL, does Í1nplicitè accept those
dogmatic decisions.
I
ay, U granting these various propositions are vir-
tually contained in the revealed word," for tbis is the

Bclief ill Dognlatic Tht:olog)'. 153

on ly question left; and that it is to he answered in the
ntHrmative, is clear at once to tbe Catho1ic, from the
fact that the Church declares that they really helong
to it. To her is (,olnmittell the care and the interpre-
tation of the revelation. The ,vord of the Church is
the word of the revelation. That the ChuJ'cb is the
infallihle oracle of truth is the fundamental dogma of
the Catholic religion; and" I believe wbat the Church
proposes to be believed" is an act of real assent"
including- all particular assents, notional and real; and,
while it is possible for unlearned as well as learned, it
is inJperative on learned as well as unlearned. And
thus it if', that by beheving the word of the Church
i1nplicitè, that is, by believing all that that word does
or shall rleclare itself to contain, every Catholic, accord-
ing to his intellectual capacity, supplements the short-
cOD1ings of his kno,,'lellge without blunting his real
assent to what is elell1entary, and takes upon hilnself
frarn the first the whole truth of revelation, progress-
ing from one apprehension of it to auuther u,l;cording
to his opportunitie
of doing so.

P_ART II.
ASSE
rr
\.:KD l
FErrEKCE.

CIIAPTER VOl.

A

L
T "()Kslt)ERED A
UNC01\lD{,rI()
Alh

I HAVE now said as much as need be said about the-
relation of
\ s
ent to Apprehension; and shall turn to
the consideration of the relation existing between
..A ssent and Inference.
.As 3pprehensi<.'1l is a concomitant, so inference is
ordinarily the antecedent of assent i-on this surely I
need not elllal'g
i-but neither apprehension nor infer-
pnce interfere

.ith the unconditional character of the-
a
sent, viewed in 1t:;:plf. The cirCUl11stauces of an act,.
however necessary to it, do not enter into the act;
assent is in its nature absolute and unconditional,
though it caunot be given except under certain con-
ditions.
'rhis is obvious; but what presents some difficulty
is this, how it i
that a conditiolJal acceptance uf a
proposition,-such a
is an act of illferpnce,-is able to
lead as it does, to an unconditional acceptance of it,-
such a
is assent; how it i
that a proposition which is
not, and cannot be, demonstrated" which at the highest
Cdn only be proved to be truth-like, not true, such as.

58 Assent considered as Un cOll,iitio n a I.

"I shall die," nevertheless claims and receives our
1nqualified adhesion. To the consideration of thi

paradox, as it may be called, I shall no". proceeà.;
that is, to the consideration, first, of the act of assent
to a proposition, which act is unconditional; next, of
the act of inference, which goes before the assent and
is conditional; ann, thirdly, of the s<;>lution of the
3pparent inconsistency which is involved in holding
that an unconditional acceptance of a DroDosition can
.be the result of its conditional verlticatlOll.

.SÙnþ/e Assent.

15<

1. SnIPLE AS
ENT.

THE doctrinp which I have been enunciating requires
such carpful explanation, that it is not wonderful that
writers of great ability and name are to be found who
have put it aside in favour of a doctrine of their own;
hut no doctrine on the subject is without its difficulties,
and cprtainly not theirs, though it carries with it a show
of common sensp. The authors to whom I refer wish
to maintain that there are degrees of assent, and that,
as the reasons for a proposition are strong or weak, so is
the assent. It follows froln this that absolute assent
has no legitilnate exercise, except as ratifying acts of
intuition or demonstration. 'Vhat is thus brought home
to us is indeed to be accepted unconditionally; but, as
to reasonings in concrete matters, they are never more
than probabilities, and the probability in each con-
clusion which ,ve dra,v is the measure of our assent
to that conclusion. Thus as:sent becolnes a sort of
neces:,ary sbadow, following upon inference, which is
the substance; and is never without S0111e alloy of
doubt, because inference in the concrete never reaches
more than probability.
Such is what may be called the à priol.i method of re-
garding assent in its relation to inference. It condemns

1 be Assl lit cOJlsidcrt"{{ as UJlcon ditzoll a I.

an unconditional fiSS8ut in concrete m,Ltters on what
lllay be called the na.ture of the case. ..l.
sent CH,nnot
rise higher than its source, inference in such matters is
at best conditional, therefore assent is conJitional also.
Abstract argument is always dangerouR, and this
instance is no exception to the rule j I prefer to go by
faets. The theory to ,vhich I have referred cannot be
carried out in pra.ctièe. It may be rightly said to prove
too lnnch; for it d(
bars ns from unconditional assent
in cases in which the comn1on voice of mankind, the
advocate
of this t1lf.
ory included, would protest against
the prohihition. 111er\J are nlany truths in concrete
Jnatter, which no one can demonstrate, yet everyone
unconditionally accepts; and though of course there
are innuluera,hle propo::5itions towhich it would be absurd
to give an absolute assent, still the absurdity lies in the
circumstances of pach particular case, as it is taken
by itself, not in their common violation of the preten-
tious axiou1 that probable reasoning can never lead to
certi tude.
Locke's remarks on the subject are an illustration of
what I have been saying. This celebrateù writer, after
the manner of his school, speaks freely of degrees of
assent, and consiJel's that the strength of as
ent. given
to each prùposition varies with the strength of the
inference on which the assent follo,vs; yet he is
obliged to mak
exceptions to his general principle,-
exceptions, unintelligible on his abstract doctrine, but
demanded by the logic of facts. The practice of n1an-
kind is too strong for the antecedent theorelll J to \vhicb
he is desirous to subject it.

Si1Jlþle Asse1lt.

161

First he says, in 11is chapter "On Probahility,"
"
Iost of the propositions we think, reason, di
courseJ
nay, nct upon, are such as we cannot have undoubted
knowledge of their truth; yet some of them border 80
'1lenr upon certainty, that we Jnalæ no donut at all about
thcm, but asscnt to them as finnly, and act accot'ding
to that H
sent as resolutely, as -if they we1'e infallilAy
demonstrated, and tha.t our knowledge of them was
perfect and certain." Here he allows that inferences,
which arc only "near upon certainty," are so near,
tbat we legitituately accept tbem with "no doubt at
all," and "assent to them as firmly as if they were
infallibly demonstrated." That is, he affirms and
sanctions the very pãradox to ,vhich I am cOillrnitted
n1)'self.
Again; he says, in his clJapter on "The Degrees of
Assent," that "when any particular thing, consonant
to the constant observation of ourselves and others in
the like case, conles attested by the concurrent reports.
of all that Inention it, we receive it as easily, and build
8-i firll1ly upon it, as jf it were certain knowledge, and
w'e reason and act therc\. pon, with as little doubt 08'
V" it were perfect demonstration." And he repeats,
"Thc
e probabilities rise so near to cerbtinty, that
they gove)'n our thoufJht.
a8 ab.-:ollLtely, and influence all
our actions as fully, as the most evident den
onf;ti'ation i
and in what concerns us, we make little or no
difference between theln aud certain knowledge. O1L1.
bel iel thus gtolL1lded, rises to as.
llrance." Here again.
" probabilities" may be so strong as to cc govprn Olì

thoughts as absolutely'J as sheer demonstration, EO
11

162 A SSCllt considered as Uncol1diliollal.

strong that belief, grounded on them, "rises to
assurance," that is, to certitude.
I have so high a respect both for the character and
the ability uf Locke, for his manly sitnplicity of rnind
and his outspoken candour, and there is so much in
his remarks upon reasoning and proof in ,vhich I fully
concur, that I feel no pleasure in considering him in
the light of an opponent to views, which I myspIf have
ever cherished as true with an obstinate devotion; and
I would willingly think that in the passage which
follows in his chapter on "Enthusiasm," he is aiming
at superstitious extravagancies which I should re-
pudiate myself as much as he can do; but, if so, his
words go beyond the occasion, and contradict what I
have quoted from him above.
"lIe that ,,,"ould seriously set upon the search of
truth, ought, in the first place, to prepare his mind
with a love of it. For he that loves it not ",'ill not
take Inuch pains to get it, nor be much concerneù
,v hen he misses it. There is nobody, in the COllllnon-
wealth of learning, who does Dot profess hilllself a
10\"01' of truth,-and there is not a rational creature,
that ,vould Dot take it amiss, to be thought otherwise
of. And yet, for all this, 0ne may truly say, there are
very few lovers of truth, tor truth-sake, even among
t
those ,vho pers
ade themselves that they are so. How
a man may kno\v, ,vhether he be so, in earnest, is
worth inquiry; and 1 think, there is this one unerring
mark of it, viz. the not entertaining any propo..,it'iun
with greater aSS1l,.ance than the pl'oofs it is built on
u:ill 'Warrant. Whoever goes beyoI1d this measure of

SÍ1nþle A SSCllt.

16 3

n
sent, it is plain, receives not truth in the love ()f it,
loves not truth for truth-sa.ke, but for SOIlle other b.v-
end. For the evidence that any proposition is true
(l.'xcept slich as are self-el"iclent) lying only in the
proofs a man has of it, whatsoever degrees of a
sent
he affords it beyond the degrees of that ev;dence, it
i
plain all that sltrplusage of aSSlU'a,nce is o,ving to some
other affection, and not to the love of truth; it being
H'" impo.o;sible that the love of truth should carry my
a.f).';cnt above the evidence there is to me that it is true,
as that the love of truth should nlake me assent to any
proposition for the sake of that evidence ,vhich it
has not that it is true; ,vhich is in effect to love it
as a truth, becausp it is possible or probable that it
Inay not be true. l "
Here he says that it is not only illogical, but im-
moral to "carry our assent above the ecidence that a
proposition is true," to have" a surplusage of aSsltl.ance
beyúnd the degrees of that eviùence." .A..ud he
f'xcepts fl'om this rule only self-evident propositions.
How then is it not inconsistent with right reason, ,vith
the love of truth for its own sake, to allow, in his
worùs quoted above, certain strong "probabilities"
to "govern our thoughts as absolutely as the 1110st
evident d(\lllonstration " ? how. is there no "surplu
age
of aS
Ul'auce beyonù the degrees of evidence" \vhen in
the Cc1.SC of those strong probabilities, we permit" our
belief, thus grounded, to rise to assurance," as he
pronounces ,ve are rational in doing? Of course he

1 Reference is made to Lockt:'s statem('ut8 in 'c Essay 011 Den
lopmènt
of Doctrinc," ell. vii.
2.

)( 2

164 A sse1lt cOllsidcred as UllCO11 ditionaI.

had in viü\v one set of instances, when he implied that
den1onstration was the condition of absolute assent,
and another set when he said that it 'vas no SUell con-
dition; but he surely cannot be acquitted of slovenly
thinking in thus treating a cardinal subject. A philo-
sopher should so anticipate the application, and guard
the enunciation of his principles, as to secure thern
against the risk of their being rnade to change places
with each other, to defend \Vh'it he is eager to de-
nounce, and to cOlldernn what he finds it necessary to
sanction. TIowever, \vhatever is to be thought of his
à pr'iori Inethocl and his logical con
istency, his
animus, I fear, 111Ust be understood as hostile to the
doctrine ,,
hich I am going to maintain. He takes a
view of the human lllind, in relation to inference and
as::;ent, which to IDe seerns theoretical and unreal.
Reasonings and convictions ,vhicb I deem natural and
legitimate, he apparently would call irrational, enthu-
t?iastic, perverse, and irnmoral; and that, as I think,
because he consults his own ideal of how the mind
ought to act, instead of interrogating human nature,
as an existing thing, as it is found in the world. In-
stead of going by the testimony of psychological facts,
and thereby determining cur constitutive faculties and
our proper condition, and being content with the
nlind as God has maùe it, he would form men as he
thinks they ought to be formed, into sOInething better
anù higher, and calls them irrational and indefensible,
if (so to speak) they take to the water, instead of
remaining under the narrow wings of his own arbitrary
theory.

SÙJlple Assent.

16 5

1. Now the fh.st question ,vhich this theory leads me
to consider is, ,vhether there is such an act of the tnind
as assent at all. II there is, it is plain it ought to show
itself unoquivocally a
such, as distinct from other acts.
For if a professed act can only be viewed as the neces-
saryand immediate repetition of another act, if assent is
a sort of reproduction and double of an act of inference,
if when inference determines that a proposition is some-
what, or not a little, or a good deal, or very like truth:
a
sent as its natural and normal counterpart says that
it i.s somewhat, or not a little, or a good deal, or very
like truth, then I do not see what we Inean by say'ing,
or why we say at all, that there is any such act. It is
simply superfluous, in a psychological point of view, and
a curiosity for subtle n1inds, and the sooner it is got out
of the way the bettor. When I assent, I am supposed,
it seems, to do precisely what I do when I iufer, or
rather not quite so much, but something which is
included in inferring; for, while the disposition of my
tnind toward8 a given proposition is identical in assent
and in inference, I merely drop the thought of the pre-
misses when I assent, though not of their influence on
the proposition inferred. This, then, and no lnore after
all, is what nature prescribes; and this, and no rnore
than this, is the conscientious use of our faculties, so to
a
sent forsooth as to do nothing else than infer. Then,
I say, if this be really the state of the case, if assent in
no real way differs from inference, it is one and the
tm,n1e thing with it. It is another name for inference,
and to speak of it at all does but mislead. N or ('an it
fairly be urged as a parallel case that an act of conSCIOUS

166 A ssellt COllsidered as Unconditional.

recognition, though distinct fronl an act of knowledge,
is after all only its repetition. On the contrary, such a
recognition is a reflex act with its own object, viz. the
act of knowledge itself. As woll Inight it be said that
the bearing of the notes of my voice is a repetition of
the act of singing :-it gives no plausibility then to the
anomaly I am combating.
I lay it do\vn, then, as a principle that either assent
is intrinsically distinct from inference, or the sooner
've get rid of tbe word in philosophy the better. If
it be only the echo of an inference, do not treat it as a
substantive act; but on the other hand,
upposing it
be not such an idle repetition, as I am sure it is Dot,
-supposing the word" assent " does hold a rightful
place in language and in thought,-if it does not
admit of being confused with concluding and inferring,
-if the t\yO words are used for two opprations of. the
intellect which cannot change their character,-if in
matter of fact they are not always found togetber,-if
they do not vary with each other, -if one is sometimes
found ,vithout the other,-if one is strong when the
other is weak ,-if sometimes they seem even in conflict
with each other,-then, since ,ve know perfectly ,veIl
what an inference is, it comps upon us to consider what,
as distinct from inference, an assent is, and ,ve are, by
the very fact of its being distinct, advanced one step
towards that account of it which I think is the true
one. The first step then towards deciding the point,
will be to inquire what the experience of hunlan life,
88 it is daily brought before us, teaches us of the
relation to each other of inference and assent.

SZ1Jzþle A ssel/!.

167

(1.) First, we know from e"\:perience that assents may
enùure without the presence of the inferential acts upon
which they were originally elicited. It is plain, that,
as life goes on, we arÐ not only inwardly formed and
changed by the accession of habits, but we are also en-
richeù by a great muHitud{' of beliefs and opinions, and
that on a variety of subjects. rrhese beliefs and opinions,
Lelù, 8S some uf thern are, ahnost as first principles, are
assents, ana they constitute, a.s it were, tbe clothing and
furniture ùf the n1Ïnd. I have already spoken of tl)em
under the head of" Cr'eòence " and" Opinion." Some-
times we are fully conscious of them; sometimes they
are inlplicit, or only now and then come directly before
our refiecti\.e faculty. Still they are assents; and, \vhen
we fir'st aòn1itted them, we had SOllie kind of reason,
slight or strong, recognized or not, for doing so. How-
t;vcr, whatever those reasons wet'e, even if we e'''"er
realized them, we have long fùrgotten them, 'Vhether
it was the authority of others, or our o\vn observation,
or our reading, or our reflections.1 which became the
\varrant of our a:-:sent, any how we received the matters
in question into our Iniuds a
true, and gave them a
place there. 'V e as
enteJ to them, aud we still assent,
though we have forgotten what the warrant \vas. At
present they are self-sustained in our minds, and have
becl!
o for long years; they are ill no sense concl usions j
thl'Y ilnpl)' no proce:,s of thought. lIere then is a case
in which a,ssent stands out a
distinct from inference.
(2.) Again; sometimes a,S
Bnt fa.ils, \vhile the reasons
for it and the inferentia.l act which is the recognition of
those reasons, are still present, and in force. Our rea-

(68 Asscnt cOJlsuiercd as Ullcolldztiollal.

sons ma)' seem to us as strong as ever, yet they do
not
ecure our assent. Our beliefs, founded on them,
,vere and are not; we cannot perhaps tell when they
,vent; we may have thought that '\ve still held them,
till sOlnething happened to call our attention to the
state of our lninds, and then we found that our Hs
cnt
had become an a
sertion. SOlnetilnes, of C0l1l'8e, a
cause may be found ,,"hy they went; there may have
been somo vague feeling that a fault lay at the ultinlate
basi
, or in the underlying condition
, of our reason-
iugs i or SOllIe mi
giving that the subject-ulatter of
them was beyontl the reach of the human mind; or a
consciousne
s that WQ had gained a broader view of
things in general than when we first gave our assent;
or tbat tllere were strong objections to our fir:;t con-
victions, which we had never taken into account. But
this is not always so; sOlnetilnes our mind changes so
quickly, so unaccountably,
o displ.oportionately to
any tangible argutnents to which the change can be
referred, and ,vith such abiding recognition of the
force of the old arguments, as to suggest the suspicion
that Inoral cal1:-:es, arising out of our condition, age,
cOlllpauy, occupations, fortunes, are at the bottom.
However, ,vhat once was assent is gone; yet the per-
ception of the old argulnents relnains, showing that
inference is one thing, and assent another.
(3.) And as as
ent sometimes dies out without tan..
gible reasons, sufficient to account for its failure, so
sometimes, in spite of strong and convincing arguments,
it is never gi veIl. \Ve sornetimes find men loud in their
admiration of tr.uths which they never profess. As, by

SÙJlþ/e A ssellt.

16 9

the law of our }}1cntal constitution, obedience is quite
distinct fronl faith, und men may believe without prac-
ti
ing, ::;0 is assent also inùependent of our acts of i:r-
ference. Again, prejudice hinders a
sent to the most
incontrovertible proofs. Again, it not unfrequelltly
happens, that ,vhile the keenness of the ratiocinative
faculty enables a man to see the ultimate result of a
complicateJ problem in a moment, it takes years for
hÜn to em brace it as a truth, and to recognize it as an
itelll in the circle of his know leùge. Yet he does at
last so accept it, and then we say that he assents.
(
j..) Again; very numerous are the cases, in which
good argulnents, and really good as far as they go, and
confessed by us to be good, nevertheless are not strong
enuugh to incline our ll1inds evpr so little to the conciu-
sion at which they poiut. But why is it that we do not
assent a little, in proportion to those argnment::; ? On
the' contrary, we throw the full 01lllS probandi on the
side of the conclusion, and. we refuse to assent to it at
all, until we can as
ent to it altogether. The proof is
capable of growth; but the assent either exists or does
not exist.
(5.) I have
)lready alluded to the influence of n10ral
motives in hindering assent to conclusions which are
logically uuilTIpeachable. According to the couplet,-
U A man convinced ngainst his will
Is of the
allle opinion still ;"-

as
ent then is not the same as inference.
(G.) Strange as it may seem, this contrast between
inference and as
eu t i
exclnplified even in the provIuce
of Inathernatics. Argument is not. always able to com-

170 Asse1lt cOllside1'Cd as UllcoJlditz"onal.

Ioand our .i\ssellt, even though it be demonstrative.
Son1etimes of course it forces it
way, that is, when the
steps uf tbe reasoning are few, and adulit of heing
viewed by the mind altogether. Certainly, one canllot
conceive a man baving before him the series of con-
ditions and truths on ,vhich it depends that the three
angles of a triangle are together equal to t,vo right
nngles, and yet not nc;
enting to that proposition. ".... ere
all propositions as plain, though assent would not in
conscq uencc be the satnp act as inference, yet it would
certainly follow imrnediately npon it. 1 allow then as
IDuch as this, that, when an argument is in it
elf and
by itself conclusive of a trutb, it has by a law of our
nature the same cOllnnand over our assent, or rather
the truth which it has reached has the same cOlnlnand,
as our senses have. Certainly our intellectual nature
is ullùer laws, and the correlative of ascertained truth
is unreserved assent.
But I aID not
peaking of short and lucid den1011stra-
tions; but of long and intricate mathematical investi-
gations; aud in that case, th9ugh every step Inay be
indisputable, it still requires a specially sustained atten-
tion and an effort of memory to have in the mind all at
once all the steps of the proof, with their bearings on
each other, and the antecedents ,vhich they severally
involve; and these conditions of the iuference nlay
interfere with the promptness of our asseut.
Hence it is that party spir'it or natioll,ll feeling or
religious preposses
ions have before no\v had power to
retard the reception of truths of a luathematical charac-
ter; which never coulJ have been, if demonstra.tions

.s"ÙJZple A ssellt.

17 1

were ip.
o facto assentq. Nor indeeù would any mathe-
matician, eVt>ll in qne:-;tion
ofpnre science, a
sent to his
own conclusions, on new and difficult ground, and in the
ca
e of ab
trllse ca.lculationg,however often he went over
hicg work, till he had the corroboration of other judgn1ents
besides his own. He ,,'oul<l have carefully revised his
inference, nud ,,"auld assent to the probability of his
accuracy in inferring, hut still he would abstain from
an inllnediate assent to the truth of his conclusion. Yet
the corroboration of others cannot add to his perception
of the pruof; he would still perceive the proof, even
though he failed in gaining their corrohoration" And
yet again he n1ight arbitrarily make it his rule, never
to assent to his conclusions without such corroLor
ìtion,
or at least before the ]apse of 8 suffi
ient interval.
Rere again inference is distinct from a
sent.
I have been t:)howing that interence and assent are
distinct acts of the lninù, and that they may be made
apart from each other. Of course I cannot be taken to
mean that there is no legitimate or actual connexion
between them, as if arguments adverse to a conclusion
did not naturally hinder assent; or as if tbe inclina-
tion to give assent were not greater or 1e
s accordiug
ll.S the particular act of inference expressed a stronger
or weaker probability j or as if assent did not always
imply grounds in rea.son, im plicit.1 if not explicit, or
coulù be right1y gi\"en without sufficient grounds.
So much is it commonly felt that assent must be pre-
ceded by inferential acts, that obstinate men give their"
own will as their very reason for assenting, if they can
think of nothing better; "stat pro ratione voluntas."

172 A JSCllt cOllsidcl'l'd as Unconditional.

lndeed, I dûubt \V hether assent is ever given ,vithout
sonle preliminal'J, which stands for a reason; but it
does not follow from thi
, that it may not be ,,,itb-
èeld in ca
es ,,-hen thf>rc are good rf\asons for giving
it to a proposition, or Inay not be \vithùr
nvn after
it has been given, the reasons remaining, or Inay
not relnain when the reasons are forgottpn, or mU:,{j
always vary in strcngtl1, as the reasons vary; and this
substantiveness, as I mny call it, of the act of a
sent
is the very point which I have wi
hed to establish.
2. Anù in showing that assent is distinct from an act
of inference, I l1ave gane a good way towards showing
in what it differs froln it. If assent and inference are
each of thelll the acceptance of a proposition, but the
special characteristic of inference is that it is condi-
tional, it is natural to suppose that assent is uncon...
ditional. A gain, if assent is the acceptance of truth,
and truth is the proper object of the intellect, and no
one can hold conditionally what by the sallie act he
holds to be true, here too is a reason for saying that
as
ellt is an adhesion without reserve or doubt to the
proposition to ,vhieh it is given. And again, it is to
be presumed that the ,vord has not two meanings:
,vLat it has at one time, it has at another. Inference
is 3h, ays inference; even if demonstrative, it is stiB
conditional; it establi
hes an incontrovertible conclu-
sion on the condition of incontrovertibh
premisses.
1'0 the conclusion thus drawn, assent gives its absolute
recognition. In the case of all demonstrations, assent,
when given, is unconditionally given. In one cluss of
subjects, then, assént certainly is always unconditional;

SÌiJlþle A sseJlt.

lï3

but if the word !'tau<1:,: for" au undoubting and unhesi-
tating act of the nJÎnù once, why does it not denote
tIle ::,arue always? what eviùence is there that it ev
r
tncnn
anything else than that which the whole world
will unite in witnessing that it means in certain cases?
,,-by are we not to interpret what is controverted hy
,vbat i
known? This is what is suggested on the
first view of the question; but t.o continue :-
In demonstrative tllattCl'3 assent excludes the pre-
sence of doubt: now are instances producible, on the
other hand, of its ever co-exi::\ting with doubt in cases
of the concrete? As tbe above instances have shown,
on very many questions ,ve do not give an assent at
all. "'\Vhat commonly happens is this, that, after hear-
ing anù entel'ing into what may be said for a proposi-
tion, we pronounce neither for nor against it. "'\Ve may
accept the conclusion as a conc1u
i,)n, dependent on
prcrnjs
es, ab
tract, aHd tending to the concrete; but
we do not follow up our inference of a proposition by
giving an aS5cnt to it. That there are concrete pro-
pu,itions to which we give unconditional assents, I
sh:dJ presently sho,,
; but I anl now asking for instances
of conditional, for in
tanceH in which we assent a little
and not n1uch. Usually, we do not a

ent at all.
Every day, as it comes, brings with it opportunities
for us to enlarge our circle of assents. \Ve reaù the
new"papcr
; 'we look through debates in Par]iament,
pleaJing
in the law courrs, Jeaall)g articles, letters of
currespondents, reviews of bouks, criticisllls in the fine
11rts, und we either furm no opinion at all upon the
t;ubjects discussed, as lying out of our line, or at most

J 74 A SSCllt considered as Unconditional.

we have only an opinion about them. At tbe utmost we
say that ,ve are inclined to believe this proposition OP
4;,hat, that we are not sure it is not true, that uluch nlay be
s'lid for it, tbat \ve have been Inuch struck by it; but we
never say that we give it a degree of assent. \Ve might
AS ",?ell talk of degrees of truth as of degrees of assent.
Yet Locke head' one of his chapters ,vith the titJe
ce Degrees of Assent;" and a "Titer, of this century,
who cJailTIS our respect from the tone and drift of his
,,"ork, thus expresses himself after Locke's manner:
cc Moral evidence," he says, cc n1ay produce a variety
of degrees of assents, from suspicion to moral certainty.
For here, the degree of assent depends' upon the degree
in which the evidence on one side preponderates, or
exceeds that on the other. And as this preponderancy
nlay \"ary Hhnost infinitely, so likewise may the degrees
of assent. For a. few of these degrees, though but for a
fe\v, names have been invented. rrhus, 'v hen the evi-
dence on one side preponderates a very little, there is
grouud for suspicion, or conjecture. Presumption,
persuasion, belief, conC'lu!'ion, conviction, moral cer-
tainty,-doubt, wavering, djstru
t, disbelief,-are words
w.hicb imply nn increase or decrease of this preponder-
ancy. Sorne of these w0rds also admit of epithct

which denote a further increase or diminution of the
assent." 2
Can there be a better illustration than this passap-l'
supplies of ",?hat I have been insisting on above, viz.
that, in teaching various degrees of assen t, we tend to
destroy assent, as an act of the mind, altogether? This
2 Gambier on l\1oral Evidence, p. 6.

SÙJlþ/e Asscnt.

liS

author nUtkes the degrees of assent "infinite," às the
Jegrecs of probability are infinite. IIis as
cntg are
..cally only infercnces, and assent is a name without
a meaning, the needless repetition of an inference. But
in truth ,e suspicion, conjecture, presumption, pt:'r-
suasion, belief, conclusion, conviction, moral certainty,"
are not" assents" at all; they are sirnply more or le
s
strong inferences of a proposition; and" doubt, waver-
ing distrust, disbelief
" are recognitions, Inore or less
strong, of tht" probability of its contradictory.
There is only one sense in which we are allo,ved to
call
uch acts or 8tates of mind assents. They are
opinions; and, as being such, they are, as I have
already observed, when speaking of Opinion, assent

to the plausibility, probability, doubtfulness, or un-
tl'ust\vorthiness, of a proposition; that is, not varia-
tions of assent to an inf
rence, but assents to a variation
in inférences. 'Vhen I assent to a doubtfulness, or to a
probability, my assent, as such, is as cOlllplete as if I
a
sented to a truth; it is not a certain degree of
assent. And, in like rnanner, I nmy be certain of an
uncertainty; that does not destroy the specific notion
convened in the word ,e certain."
I do not know then when it is that we ever dllibe-
rately profess assent to a proposition without meaning
to convey to others the inlpression that we accept it
ullre
ervedly, and that because it is true. Certainly,
we farniliarly use such phrases as a half-a
sellt, as we
also speak of half-truths; but a half-a!Ssent is not a
kind of assent any more than a balf-truth is a kind of
truth. As the object is indivisible, so is the act. _\

176 A sseJlt considered as UJlCOJldztiollaI.

half-truth is a proposition ,vhich in one aspect is a
truth, and in another is not; to give a half-assent is to
feel drawn towards assent, or to assent one mornent
and not the next, or to be in the ,yay to assent to it.
It Inean-; that the proposition in question deserves 8
hearing, that it is probable, or atr,ractive, that it opens
iruporbtllú views, t
at it is a key to perplexing diffi-
culties, or the like.
3. Treatiug' the subject then, not according to à priori
fitne:ss, but according to the facts of hUln:lll nature, as
they are found in the concrete action of life, T find
numberle
s cases in which we do Dot assent at an, none
in 'which a<;sent is evidently conditional ;-and In any,
as I shallllow' proceed to show, in \vhich it is uncon-
ditional, and these in subject-Inatters which admit of
nothing higher than probaLle reasoning. If hUlnan
nature is to be its own witness, there is no Inedium
bet ween assenting and not as
enting. Locke's theory
of the duty of as::5euting more or less according to
degrees of eviùenc p , is invaliùated by the testilnony of
high aud low, YOU!1g and old, .111cient and modern, as
continually given in th(.ir oròillaty sayings and doings
Indeed, as I have sho\vn, he does not strictly maintain
it himself; yet, though he feels the claims of nature
and fact to be too strong for hiu1 in certain cases, he
gives no rea
on why he should violate his theory in
tbese, ana yet not in many nlore.
Now let 1:1S review some of those assents, which luen
give on e\Tidence short of intuition and demonstration,
yet ,vhich are as unconditional as if they had that
highest evidence.

S-iJJ1þle Assent.

177

First of all, starting from intuition, of courso we nIl
hplievo, without any doubt, that we exist; that '\YU
have an individuality and identity all our O\Vll; that ,ve
think, feel, and act, in the home of our own Ininds;
tha.t we have a present sense of good and evil, of a
right and a ""rong, of a true and a false.. of a beautiful
find a hideous, however \VO analyze our iùeas of thmn.
'Ve have an absolute vision before us of what ha,ppcnod
yesterday or la
t year, so as to be able without any
chance of n1istake to give evidence upon it in a court
of justice, let the consequences be ever so serious. ,,, e
arc sure that of many things we are ignorant, that
of many things we are in doubt, and that of lllany
things we are not in doubt.
Nor is the assent which ,vo give to facts limited to
tho range of self-consciousness. \Ve are sure beyonù
all hazard of a tnistake, that our own self is not
tho only being existing; that there is an external
world; that it is a systelu with parts and a whole, a
universe carried on by h1WS; and. that the future is
aflectcd by the past. '\í e accept anù hold with an
unqualified assent, that the earth, considered as a phe-
nomenon, is a globe; that all its regions see tho
sun by turns; that thore are vast tracts on it of land
aurl 'water; that there are really existing cities on
definite
ites, ",.11ich go by the names of London, Paris,
:F]orence, and
Iadrid. 'Ve are sure that Paris or
IJondon, unless suddenly swallowed up by an earth.
quake or burned to the ground, is to-day just ,vhat
it was yesterday, when ",ye left it.
\V. e laugh to scorn the idea, that 'va had no parentg
N

178 Asscnt c01lsidered as Unco1lditiollal.

though we ha\.e no melnory of our birth; that ,vo shall
never depart this life, though we can have no experience
of the future; that ""e are able to live without fooù,
though ,ve have never tried; that a world. of men did
not live before our tilne, or that that w'orld has had no
history; that there has Leen no rise and faIl of states,
no great men, n ,val'S, no revolutions, no art, no
science, no literature, no religion.
"r c should be either :indignant or amu
ed at the re-
port 0 f our :intimate friend Leing falsp to us; and we
are able sOITlctimes, without allY hesitation, to accuse
certain parties of hostility anù injustice to us. 'V C Inay
have a deep consciousness) ,vhich we never can lose,
that we on our part have been cruel to others, and
that they have felt us to be so, or that we have been,
and have heen felt to be, ungenerous to those who 10\"e
us. 'Ve may have an overpowering SPllse of our llloral
,veakness, of the precariou
ncss of our life, health,
,vcalth, position, and good. fortune. "... e 111ay have a
clear view of the ,veak points of our physical constitu-
tion, of ,,,hat food or nwdicine is good for us, and what
does us hann. "\V 0 Inay Lo able to ]1)[lster, at least in
part, the course of our past history; its turning-points,
our hitR, [lnd our groa" mistakes. 'V 0 may have a
sense of the prosence of [L Supreme Being, which never
has Leen din1med by even a passing shadow, which has
Ülhabitec1 us ever since we can recollect any thing, and
,vhich ".e cannot imagine our losing. "\Ve may be able,
for others llave been able, so to realize the precepts and
truths of Christianity, as deliberately to surrender our
life, rather than trans
ress the one or to deny the other-

SÍJJlþlc ./1 sseJlt.

lï9

On all these truths \yo havo an imnl{'cliato nn.I an
unhesitating hold, nor ÙO \yo think ol1r
elves guilty uf
not loving truth for truth'::; sake, hecauso wo caunot
reach theHI through a serie
of intuitivo propositions.

\s:-:cnt on l'ea
ollings not ùCll1onstrativo is too wiùcly
recugni
ed an act to 1)0 irrational, unles
ulan's natura
is irrational, tou fan1Íliar to tho pruJeut and clear-
n1Ínùcc1 to Lo fin infirnlity or an ex.travagance. X ono of
U
can think or act without the acceptanco of tl'uth:-5,
not intuitive, not Jel110nstratel1, yet sovereign. If our
naturo has any constitution, any laws, one of thmn i':)
this aI)soluro reception of propositions a
truc, wl1ich
lio outsiJo tho narrow rango of cOllclusioll
to wljich
lugic, forIllal or virtual, i
tethered; 1101' ha
any
philu
ophical theory tho power to forco on us a rulo
which \Villno
work for a day.
'Vhen, then, philosophers lay ùo\vn principles, on
which it follo\vs that our assent, oxcept when given
to objects of intuition or denlon
tratioll, is COll-
ditiunal, that tho ass(\ut given to propositions hy.
well-orl1erpd Inintls necessarily varies with tho proof
proJuciLle for them, and that it ùocs not and cannot
remain one and the sarno while the proof is strengthencù
or weakeneù,-are they not to bo consiJercd a
con-
fusing togother two things very distinct froill eal;h
other, a mental act or state and a sci
ntific rule, an
interior as
cnt and a set of logical fOrIllUlas? 'Yhcn
they speak of ùegrees of assent, surely they ha'
o no
intention at all of defining tho po
itioll of tho nlind
itsclf relativo to the aJoptioll of n. giycn conclusi6ïl,
Lut they are recorain<
their perception of the relation
N 2

I So Asse1lt considered as U1lcon ditiona I.

of thrt conclusion towards its premisses. They are
contcnlplating how representative symbols ,vork, not
how the intellect is affected towards the thing which
those sYInbols represcnt. I n real truth they as little
nlcall to n
sert the principle of measuring our assents
by onr logic, as tIu""\y ,,,,onld fancy they could record
the rcfreshnlellt ,vJlich we receive fronI the open air
by the readings of the graduated scale of It UlerIno..
nleter. 'l'here is a COllllcxioll doubtless between a
logical conclusion and an assent., as thero is bctween
the variation of the Dlcrcnry anll our sensations; but
the ulcrcury is not the canse of life and health, nor is
verbal argllll1entation the principle of inward belief.
If we feel hot or chil1y, no one ,,,,ill convince us to the
contrary by insisting that tIle glass is at GOo. It is
the Inind that reasons and assents, not a ùiagram 011
papcr. I 111ay have difficulty in the Inanagement of a
proof, while I renutin unshaken in my adherence to
the conell1sion. bupposing a boy cannot ll1ako his
nugwer to son1e aritll1lletical or algobraical question
tally with the book, need he at onco distrust the book?
])OC8 Lis trust in it fall down a certain nUlnber of
dpgl'ees, according to the force of his difficulty?
t)n the contrary he keeps to the principle, inlplicit
hut present to his nlind, with ,,,,hich he took up
the book, that the book is more likely to be right
than he is; and this mere preponderance of probability
is sufficient to n1ake him faithful to his belief in
its correctness, till its incorrectness is actually
proyed.

J y own opinion is, tllat the class of "Titers of

SÍ1Jlplc Assent.

18!

",honl I have been spea.king, have theInselves as little
Dli
giving about tho truths which they pretend to
,veigh out and mea
ure, as their unsophisticated
neighbours; but they think it a duty to rpmincl 11",
that since the fuB etiquette of logical requireUl(IIlt::;
has not been satisfied, we must believe those truths at
our peril. They warn us, that an is
ue which caIl
never come to pass in nlatter of fact, is neverthele

in theory a possible supposition. rrhey ùo not, for
instance, intenù for a 11lOIllellt to inlply that there i:i
even the shadow of a doubt that Great Britain ið an
island, but they think we ought to kllO\Y, if we do not
know, that there is no proof of the fact, in moùe anù
figure, equal to the proof of a proposition of Euclid;
and that in consequence they and ,ve are all Lound
to suspend our judgment about such a fact, though it
1)0 in an illfinitesÏtnal degree, lest" e should seem not
to love truth for truth's sake. Having ulade their
protest, they subside without scruple into that Same
absolute assurance of only partially-proved truths,
which is natural to the il]ogical imagination of the
multitude.
4. It remains to explain some conversational ex-
pressions, at first sight favourable to that doctrine of
degrees in assent, which I have been combating.
(1.) 'Ve often speak of giving a mOllified and quali..
fied, or a presumptive and primâ facie assent, or (as I
ha.ve already said) a half-assent to opinions or facts;
but these expressions admit of an easy explanation.
Assent, upon the authority of others is often, as I have
noticed, when speaking of notional assents, little more

182 ASSC11t considered as U'Jlcollditiollal.

than n. profession or acquie
cence or inference, not a real
acceptan:ce of a proposition. I report" for instance, that
thero was a serious fire in the town in the past night;
and then perhaps I add, that at least the morning
papers sav so j-that is, I havp perhaps no positive doubt
of the fact; stilI, hy referring to the newspapers I Ï1nply
that I do llOt take 7)n Inyself .the rcspollsiLility of tho

tatclncnt. In thus qna]ifying Iny appa1'C'ut assent, I

how that it "a
not a g"cJlnine assent at all. In like
llUlllller a lJril1llt jl.lCic assput is an assent to an ante-
ceùellt probahility of a fact, !Jot to the fact itself; as I
might give a prinllîo- acic asscnt to the Plurality of worlds
or to the personality of 110Iner, without pledging myself
to cither absolutely. " lIalf-assent," of ,vhich I spoko
aboyc, is an inclination to asscnt, or again, an intention
of assenting, ,,,hen certain difficulties are surmounted.
\ rhen ,vo speak without thought, assent has as vague a
nlcaning a
half-assent; hut when ,ve deliberatcly say,
(( I a
sent," ,ve signify an act of the mind so definite,
as to adlllit of no change but that of its ceasing to be.
(2.) And so, too, though ,ve sometimes use tlI8
phrase" conditional assent," yet we only mean thpl'pby
to say that "TO ,,,in assent under certain contingcncies.
Of course we luay, if ,ve please, include a condition in
the proposition to ,vhich our assent is given; and then,
that condition enters into the matter of the assent, but
n0t into the assent itsclf. To assent to-" If this man
i
in a consumption, his days are numbered,"-is as
little a conditionnJ assent, as to assent to-" Of this
COl1suluptive patient the days are numbered," -.which,
(though without the conditional form), is an equivalent

SÙJlþle A sse Ilt.

IS3

proposition. In such cac;es, strictly speaking, the
n
scllt is given ncither to antecedent nor consequent
of the conùitional proposition, but to their cOlluexion,
that is, to the cnthYlnclnatic infercniia. If we placo
the conuition external to tho proposition, thcn tho
nS
èllt ,viH 10 g"in:n to e, 'rlw,t e his ùaY8 arc nUluhercll'
i
conditionally tr.up j" aua of cour
e W0 can as
ellt to
the cunJiiiollality of a proposition as well a8 to it
pro-
bability. OL' again, if so be, We n1ay give onr assent
not only to the infcrcnlia in a cOlnp1ex conditional pro-
position, but to each of tho siluple propositions, of
which it is Iuade up, besiùes. ,e There will be a storln
EGOll, fur the Inercury fal1s ;"-here, besides as
ellting
to the cOTIllexion of the proposition
, we 111<1.)' a
F\ent
also to " The I11C1"Cnry falls," and to 'e 'There win ho n,
t "' 1 ' 1 .' . t tl ..".
S orID. lIS ]S a
senhng 0 10 preHnSS, 11lJetcnf Itl,
ana thing inferreù) all at once ;-,vo assent tù tho
whole
yllogisrn, and to its cOlnponent parts.
(3.) In like nlanner arc to be eXplained the phra
es)
,e deliberate assent.," a " rational a
sent;" a." suùJen,"
"Ï1npulsive," or "hesitating" assent.. These expres-
sious ùenot<.', not killÙS or qualities, but the circulll-
stances of asscnting. A deliberate assent is an Uð
ent
following upon deliberation. It is sometÍtnes called
L
conviction, a word which commonly incluùes ill its
nleaning two acts, both the act of inference, anJ tho
act of assent consequent UpOll the inference. Thi:; sub-
ject will bo consiùeretl in the next Section. On the
other hanll, a hesitating assent is an assent to which
we havo been slow and illterlnittent in cOIning; or an
a
scnt which, when giv"cn, is thwarted and obscured

184 A sseut cOllsidered as Un co n ditio 1la I.

by external and flitting misgivings, though not SUCll as
to enter into the act itself, or essentially to danlage it.
There is another sense in which we speak of a hesi.
tating or uncertain assent; viz. \vhen ,vo assent in act,
but not in the habit of our minds. rrill assent to a
doctrine or fact is lHY habit, I am at the Inercy of
inferences contrary to it j I assent to-day, and give up
Iny belief, or illcline to disbelief, to-lllorrow. I may
find it IllY duty, for instance, after the opportunity of
careful illquiry anù inference, to assent to another's
innocence, wholl1 I have for years considered guilty;
bu t from long prejudice I ll1ay be unable to carry my
llC\V assent ,veIl about lne, and lllay every no,v and then
relapse into momentary thoughts injurious to him.
(4.) A.. lllore plausibIeobjection tothe absolute absence
of all doubt or misgiving in an act of assent is found in
the use of the terms firm and ,veak assent, or in the
gro,vtb of belief anù b'ust. rrhus, we assent to the
events of history, but not with that fulness and force
of adherence to the received account of theln \vith ,vhich
\ve realize a record of occurrences \vhich are \vithin our
own Inemory. And again, ,ve assent to the praise be-
sto,ycd on a frÏ<;nd's good qualities with an energy,vhich
".e do not feel, ,,-hen \ve
re speaking of virtue in the
abstract: and if,ve are political partisans, our assent is
ycry colù, ,vhen ,ye cannot refuse it, to representations
}11adc in favour of the wisdom or patriotism of states...
}UCll ",horn we dislike. And then as to religious sub-
jccts ,ve speak of C( strong" faith and C( feeble " faith;
of the faith \vhich ,vonld lnove mountains, and of the
ordinal.Y faith " ,vithout which it is i
possible to p]eas(J

S ÙJlþle 1 sscnt.

18 5

God." .A nù as ,\ e can grow in graces, so surely can
,\
o inclusively in faith. Again we riso froln one work
on Christian Evidences ,vith our faith enliveneù anù
invigorated; from another perhaps with the distracteù
fatùer's "
ords in our mouth, "I believe, help nlY Ull-
belief."
Now it is evident, first of all, tbat habits of n1Ïnd IUftY
grow, as b0ing a. something permancnt and continu-
ous; and by as
ent gL"owing, it is often only me[tnt that
t he habit grows and has greater hold upon the mind.
But again, when we carefully consiùer the matter, it
will be found that this increase or decrease of strength
ùoes not lie in the asseJ.1t itself, but in its circumstances
and concomitants; for instance, in the emotions, in the
ratiocinative faculty, or in the Ünagination.

"or instance, as to the emotions, this strength of
assent Inay be nothing III ore than the strength of lovc,
hatred, intercst, de
il"e, or fear, which the object of the
a
sent clicits, anù this is especially tho case when that
object is of
religiuus nature. Such strength is aùven-
titious and acciùental; it may conle, it 1nay go; it is
found in one man, Dot in another; it does not interfere
with the genuineness aud perfection of the act of ass en t.
Balaam assented to the fact of his own intercourse with
thp supernatural, as 'well as
toses ; hut, to use religious
lallguage, he had light ,vithont lovE'; his iutellect was
clear, his heart was cold. lIenco his faith" oultl popu-
larly b(
considel'pd wanting in strength. On the other
hand, prejudice iluplies btrong assents to the disad-
vantage of its object; tbat is, it encourages such as-
sents, and guards theu} lrom the chance of being ]ost.

186 Asstllt considered as U1lcoJl{litiollal.

Again, when a conclusion is recolnmended to U3 by
the l1ulnber and force of the argnlnents in proof of it,
our recognition of thern invests it ,yith a huuinousness,
wLich in onc ::,ense atlds strength to our as
cnt to it,
as it certainly docs protect and clnbolùen that a
sellt.
Thu
we assent to a review of recent events, which we
lu1ve studied frorn original doc'utllent
, ,vith no triuIll-
pi ant p
rclnptoriness which it ueither occur
to u::;,
nor is po
siLlc for us, to exercise, when \\8 ulake au
act of assent to tbe a
sassination of J U1ilB C
esar, or
to the existence of the Ahipones, though we are a

securcJy certain of theso latter facts as of the doings
anù occurrences of yesterday. ·
And further, all that I have said about thp apprc

hension of propositions is in point here. "\YP IHay
speak of assent to our I.Jorcl's t1ivinity as strong ur
feeble, according as it is given to the reality a
iUl.
I)rc
scd upon the imflgination, or to tho ]lotion of it as
entertained hy the intellect.
(:1.) .Nor, lastly, ùoes this doctrine of tho intrin
ic
integrity nnd indivisibility (if I Inay so speak) of
assent interfere ,vith the teaching' of Catholic theology
as to the pre-emincnce of strength in l1ivinp faith,
,vhich has a supernaturnl origin, 'v hen cOllJpared with
all belief ,vhich is 11lerely hUlnan and natural. For first,
that prc-enlinenco consists, not in its differing froIlI
hUlnan faith, merely in degree of assent, but in its being
superior in nature and kind,3 so that the one does not
I "
upcrnatnralis mcntis asscnsus, rebus fidei cxhibitns, cùm præcipuè
depcuùcat à grntiâ Dei intrinsccus mClltcm ilIuminante et C01llll1ovcntc,
polcst csse, et cst, major quocUlHlue aSSCllSU ccrtitudilli naturali præstito,
scu ex rnotivis IH1turalibus orto," &c.-Dl1loü
ki, Illstit. t i, p. 28.

SÙJlþle ASSCJlt.

1 8 7

nùmit of a cOluparison with the other; anù next, its
intrinsic
upcl'iority is not a matter of expericllcP, hut
is abovo cxpC'ricnce. 4 Assent is ever assent; S but in
the assent which follows on a divino announcctnent,
nuJ is vivified by:J, divine grace, thoro is, froDl tho
nature of tho caso, a transcenùant adhesion of mind,
intellectual auù 1110ral, ana n. special sclf-protection/
heyolld the operation of those orùinary laws of thought,
,vhich alono havo a place in 11lY discussion.

.. " Hoc [\'iz. multo ccrtior cst homo de' co quod audit à. Deo qui falli non
potr!\t, qu
un de eo quod videt propriâ rationc quâ falIi potest] int{'1li.
gcnùul11 cst de ccrtitudiuc fidl'i secundum apprctiationcm, 110n sccunùull1
iutcntiollcm; nam srope contingit, ut scicntia clariùs pcrcipiatur ab in-
teIJcctu, atque ut conncxio scicntiæ cum veritate magi8 appareat, quàm
conuexio fidei cum câdem; cognitioncs enim naturales, ntpote eaptui
noslro uccoUlmol1at a-, mag-is animull1 (juietant, ùclectant, et vclllti
satiant."-Scavini, Theol. ,l\Ioral. t. ii. p. 123.
5 cc Suppono cnim, vcritatcUl fiùei non essc ccrtiorcm vcrilatc meta-
phJ
icâ aut gcomctricû. quoad modum asscusionis, sed talltum quoad
moùum adhæsiollis; quia utrinque iutcllectus absolutè sinc moùo limi-
tantc lI!:seDtitur. Sola lIutem udhm
io voluntatis diversa est; quia in
uctu fidei gratia seu habitus iufusus roborat intellectum et \"oluntatem,
IlC tam faci1è mutentur aut pcrturbcntur!'-Amort, Thcol. t, i, p. 312.
"Hroe distinctio ccrlitmlinis [c\: diversitate motivorum] extl'insecatn
talltum diffcrentiam importat, cùm omnis natural is certitudo, formalitcr
8pectata, sit mqualis j debet enim csscutialiter el'roris periculum amovere,
exclusio autcl11 pcricu1i crrori
in indivisibili consistit; aut cnim hnùclur
aut non babetur."-Dmouski, ibid. p. 27.
6 cc :Fidcs {'st ccrtior omni veri tate nalurali, etiam geometricè aut mcta-
ph)'sicè ccrt"'" j idquc non solum ccrtit11l1ine ndhæsionis sed ctiam nsscn.
tionis. . . . Intellectus scntit se in mu1tis vcritntibl1s etiam 1llctupbJ
icè
certis posse per o\
cctionc:; pcrturbari, e.
. si Icgat scppticos. . . . E
contra. circa ca, quæ constat cs
c rc\'clata à Dco, HulIn::> potest perturbari."
-Amot.t, ihill, p, 3G1.

188 Asscnt cOJlsidcrtd as Uncondztlonal.

2. CO
PLEX ASSENT.

I II.\ VE hc('n considering assent as the mel1bll assertion
of all intelligible proposition, as an act of the inteHect
direct, absolute, conlplete in itself, unconditional, arbi-
trary, yet not illcolnpatible with an appeal to argument,
and at least in many cases exercised unconsciously.
Ou this last characteristic of assent I have not insisted,
as it ha
not como in my ,yay; nor is it more than an
accident of acts of assent, though an ordinary accident.
'fhat it is of ordinary occurrence cannot be doubted.
A great Inany of our assents are merely expressions
of our personal likings, tastes, principles, motives,
and opinions, as dictated by nature, or resulting from
habit; in other words, they ace acts and manifesta-
tions of self: now ,vhat is more rare than self-
kno,vledge? In proportion then to our ignorance of
self, is our unconsciousnesq of those illnumera"Lle acts
of assent, which ,ve are incessantly making. And so
ngain in what may be almost called the mechanical
operation of our minds, in our continual acts of
apprehension and inference, speculation, and resolve,
propositions pass before us and receive our assent
,vithout our consciousness. Hence it is that we are
so apt to confuse together acts of assent and acts of

C01J1þlex Assent.

18 9

infprence. Indeec1, I Inay fairly say, that those assents
which we giv-c with a direct knowledge of what we are
doing', arc fe,v conlpared with the Inultitude of like
nets which pass through our minds in long succession
without our observing thelli.
.rhat nlode of Assent which is exercised thus uncon-
sciously, I l11ay ('all
iInplo assent, anù of it I havo
treated in the foregoing Section; but now laIn going
to speak of such a:5
ents a
must be luaùe consciously
and deliberately, and ,vhich I shall call cOlnplex or
reflex assents. .Anù I begin by reealJing what I ha\"o
already statea about the relation in which Assent ana
Inference stand to each other,-Inference, which holù

propositions conditionally, and Assf'ut, which un con-
ditiona}}y accepts thmn; the relation is this :-
Âcts of Inference are both the antecedents of assent
before assenting, and its usual concon1Ítants after as-
Renting.
"or instance, I hold absolutely that tho
country wllich 'YC call Inùia exists, upon trustworthy
testimony; anù next, I Ina)'" continue to believe it on
the saIne testimony. In like lnanner, I have ever
believed that Great Britain is an island, for certain
sufficient reasons; and on the saIne rpasons 1 Inay
persist in the bplief. nut it nlay happen t!lat 1 forget
nlY reasons for what I believe to he BO absolutely true;
or I 111ay neyel' have asked myself about them, or
formally marshalled theln in order, and have been
accustomed to assent without a recognition of IllY assent
or of its grounds, and then perhaps SOlllcthing occurs
'which leads to my reviewing and cOlllpleting those
grounds, analyzing and arranging thenl, yet ,vithout

190 Asscnt c01lsidered as Unconditional.

on tllat account implying of necessity any suspense,
ever so s1ight, of assent, to the proposition that Inùia
is in a certain part of the earth, and that Great Britain
is an island. "Tith no suspense of assent at all; any
Inore than tlle boy in Iny former illustration had any
doubt aùon t the ans\ver set down in his arithmetic-book,
,vhen he began W' rking out. tho question; any nloro
than he w'ould be doubting his cjTes and his COlllUlun
sen
t', that the two sides of a triangle are together
greater than tho third, becauso ho dre\v out tho gt'o-
JJletrical proof of it. 110 docs but repeat, after bis
fornutl dculonstration, that as
ent which he luatle beforo
it, and assents to his previous assenting. This is \vhat
I call a reflex or complex assent.
I say, there is no neces
ary inconlpatibility betwecn
thus assenting and yet proving,-for the conclusiveness
of a proposition is not synonymous with its truth. ...\
proposition may be true, yet not adn1Ít of being con-
cluded j-it may be a conclusion and yet not a truth.
rro contemplate it under one aspect, is not to contenl-
plate it nnder anot11er; and tho two aspects mny be
consistpnt, from the very fact tha.t they aro two a,çpccls.
rrherefore to set about concluding a proposition is not
ipso facto to doubt its truth; 'we lnay aim at inferring
a proposition, while all the time 1ye assent to it. 'Ve
Lave to do this as a common occurrence, when ,ve take
on ourselves to convince another on any point in 'which
he differs from us. \Ve do not deny our own faith,
because we become controversialists; and ill like
manner w'e may employ ourselves in proving what ,,"e
already believe to be true, sitnply in orqer to ascertain

COJJlþle:t: A SSCllt.

19 1

the Pi"oduciblo evidencc in its favour, and in orJer to
fulfil what is Juo to ourseh es and to the claims and
responsibilities vf OUf eJucation aud social position.
IlmY"e been speaking of in v'csligation, not of inquiry;
it is quite true that inquiry is inconsistent with as
cnt,
but inquiry is SOlllcthing lllorc tha.n the mere exercise of
inference. lIe who inquires has not found; he is in
ùouht \vhere the truth lies, and wi
hes his present pro-
fc:,sioll either prO\TCÙ or Jisproved. ",.. e cannot ,vi thont
alJ::;urdity call ourselves at once believers and inquirers
al
o. 'fhus it is SOl11ctimes spoken of as a hardship that
a, Catholic is not allo\ved to inquire into the truth of
his Creed ;-of course he cannot, if he ,,,,ould retain the
n
nne of believcr. He cannot be both insidc and outside
of the Church at once. It is merely COillllion sense to
tell hiln that, if he is seeking, he has not founJ. If

eckillg includes doubting, ana doubting cxclude
he-
lieving, then tlle Catholic who sets about inquiring,
thereby declares that he is not a Catholic. lIe has
alloeady lost faith. And this is his best defence to hil11-

elf for inquiring, viz. that he is no longer 3, Catbolic,
and wishes to beCOlllC 011(\.
rhey \"ho would forhid hinI
to inquire, ,vould in that ca
o he shutting the stable-
ùoal' after the steed is stoleno 'Vhat can he do better
than inquire, if he is in ùoubt? ho\velse can be beconlo
a Catholic again ? Not to inquire is in his case to be
ðatisfieJ ,vith disbelief.
IIowever, in thus speaking, I am viewing the 11latter
in the abstract., nnd \vithout allowing for the manifold
inc01lsistpncies of individuals, as they are found in the
w()Jo)(l, who attPInpt to unite inconlpntihiliti('s; ",ho do

192 A ssellt considered as UllcoJldz.tioJlal.

not doubt, but who act as if they did; who, though tI1CY
belicye, are weak in faith, and put themselves in the
way of losing it by unnecessarily listening to objections.

roreo,er, there are minds, undoubtedly, with whonl at
all times to question a truth is to make it questionablc,
anù to investigate is equivalent to inquiring; and again,
there may be beliefs so sacred or so delicate, that, if [
lllay use the metaphor, they will not 'wash without
shrinking and losing colour. I graut all this; but hero
I aln discussing broad principles, not individual cases;
and these principles are, that inquiry in1plies doubt, anù
that investigation does not iluply it, and that those who
assent to 3. doctrine or fact Inay ,vithout inconsistency
investigate its credibility, though they cannot literally
inquire about its truth.
Next, I consider that, in the case of educated minds,
iuvestigations into the argulnentative proof of the things
to which they have given their assent, is an oLligation,
or rather a necessity. Such a trial of their intellects i

a hnv of thcir nature, like the growth of childhood into
nlanhooù, anù analogous to the Inoral ordeal ,,"hich is
the instrument of their spiritual life. 'The lessons of
right and ,vrong, which are taught then1 at school, are
tù 1e carried out into action an1id the good and evil of
the world; and so again the inteHectual assents, in
,vhich they have in like manner been instructed from the
first, have to be tested, realized, and developed by the
exercise of their mature judgment
Certainly, such processes of investigation, ,vhether in
religious subjects or secular, often issue in the reversal
of the assents '\V hich they 'were originally intended to

COI1Z/J!e_í rl sse 1 zt.

193

confi"
ll: :l
the boy who works out an arithmetical
problern troln his book Inay end in detecting, or think-
ing he detect
, fit false print in the answer. But the
question before ns is whether acts of assent and of
inference arc compatible; and my vague consciousness
of the possibility of a reversal of my belief in the course
of lny researches, as 1ittIe interferes with the honesty
and firrnncss of that belief while those researches pro-
ceeJ, RS the recognition of the possibility of my train's
over
etting is an evidence of an intention on my part
of undergoing so great a calamity.
ly mind is not
moved by a scientific computation of chances, nor can
any Ian of averages affect 1))Y particular case. To incur
a risk is not to expect reverse; and if my opinions are
trne, I have a right to think that they will bear exa-
Inlnlng. .Kor, on the other hand, does belief, viewed in
it
idea, imply a positive resolution in the party believing
never to abandon that belief. '''"hat belief, aq such,
docs iInply is, not an intention never to change, but the
utter absence of all thought, or expectation, or fear of
changing. A spontaneous resolution nevel" to change
is inconsistent with the idea of belief; for the very force
and absoluteness of the act of assent precludes any such
resolution. 'Ve do not commonly determine not to do
what we cannot fancy ourselves ever doing. \Ve should
rpadily indeed Inake
uch a, forrn:Ll prorni
e if we were
called upon to do so; for, since We have the truth, and
truth cannot change, how can we pos
ibly cbange in
our belief, except indeed through our own weakness
or fickleness? 'Ve have no intention whatever of
LpÌllg weak or fickle; so OHr prolnise is but the natu 1'al
o

J. 9
A sseJlt conszdered as UllcoJlclitio1lat.

guarantee of our sincerity. It is possible then, wlthout
disloyalty to our convictions, to ex
nnine their grounds,
even though in the event they are to fail uuder the
exaluination, for we have no suspicion of this failure.
And such exaluination, as I have said, does but fulfil
a la\\r of our nature. Our first assents, right or wrong,
fire often little more than prejudices. The reasonings,
which precede filid accompany theln, though sufficient
for their purpose, do not rise up to the Ï1nportauce and
energy of the assents tbem
elve::,. .....\.s tilDe goes on, by
degrees and without set purpose, by reflection and expt'-
rience, we begin to confirlll or to correct the notions and
the inulges to which those assents are given. At times
it is a necessity formally to undertake a survey and revi-
sion of this or that class of them, of tho
e which relate
to religion, or to social duty, or to politics, or to the
conduct of life. Sometimes this review begins in doubt
as to the matters which \\"e propose to consider, that is,
in a suspension of the assents hitherto familiar to us ;
sometimes those assents are too strong to allow of being
lost on the first stirring of the inquisitive intellect, and
if, as time goes on, they give \vay, our change of mind,
be it for good or for evil, is owing to the accu1l1ulating
force of the arguments, sound or unç:ound, which bear
(lawn upon the proposltions \vhich we have hitherto
l'eceived. Objections, indeed, as such, have no direct
force to \Veakell assent; but., when they 111ultiply, they
tell against the ilnplicit reasonings or the fornlal infer-
ences \vhieh are its warrant, and suspend its acts and
gra(lually undermine its habit. Then the assent goes;
but \vhether slowly or 8uddenly, noticeably or ilnpel'Cep-

COJJlþle.1: A sscul.

lY5

tibly, is a matter of Cil'Culllst1.11Ce or .t,ccirlent. lIùw-
ever, ,vhether the original assent is continued on or not,
the ncw assent diffel's from the old in thi
, that it has
the strength of explicitne
s and delibera.tion, that it is
Dot a mere prèjudice, and its strength the strength of
prcjudice. It is an assent, not only to a given proposi-
tion, but to the clailn of that pi
oposition on our a
-;eut
as true; it is an assent to an assent, or what i::; COill-
Ul011ly called a conviction.
Of course these reflex acts may be repeated in a series,
As I pronounce that" Great Britain is an island," and
then pronounce" That' Great Britain is an island' Ir.ts
a claim on my assent," or IS to " be assented-to," or to
be " accepted as tt'ue," or to be " believed," or sin1ply
" is true" (these predicates being equivalent), so ] may
proceed, "The proposition C that Great-Britain-is-an-
i8land is to be believed' is to be believed," &c., l\JC., aud
so on to ad infinitum, But this ,,
ould be trifling. 'J..1he
mind is like a double mirror, in which l'eflexions of self
\vithin Relf multiply thetllselves till they are undistin-
gllishable, and the first reflexion contains all the rest.
...\.t the S(Lme t.ime, it is \vorth while to notiee two other
("cflcx propositions :-"That ' Great Britain is an island'
is probable" is true :-and .C That' Great Britain is an
island' is uncertain" is true ;-for the fonner of these
is the CXpJ'cs::;ion of Opinion, ana the latter of formal
or theulugical doubt, as I have alreaùy deteru1Íned.

I have one step farther to Inake-let the proposition
to which the assent is given be as absolutely true as
the reflex act prollouncc8 it to be, that is, ubjectively
o

196 A SSl'Jlt cOllsidercll as Ullcolzdit iOllal.

true as well as subjectively :-then the assent may be
caned. a perception, the conviction a certitude, the pro-
position or truth a certainty, or thing known, or a
Inatter of Il"nowledge, and to assent to it is to l"now.
Of course, in thus speaking, I open the an-important
question, what is truth, and ,vbat apparent truth? what
is genuine kno,vled
e, and what is its counterfeit? what
are the tests for discriminating certitude from mere
persuasion or delusion? '\Thatever a man holds to be
true, he will say he holds for certain; and for the
present I must allo\v him in his assumption, hoping in
one way or another, as I proceed, to lessen the difficul-
ties ,vhich lie in the ,yay of calling him to account for
so doing.
\..nd I have the less scruple in taking this
course, as believing that, among fairly prudent anù
circunn;pect men, there ure far fewer instances of false
certitude than at first sight might be supposed.
Ien
are often doubtful about propositions ,vhich are really
true; they are not commonly certain of such as are
sinlply titl
e. "That they judge to be a certainty is in
IHatter of fact for the most part a truth. K ot that
there is not a great deal of rash talking even among
the educated portion of the cOlliU1unity, and many (:t.
man 1nakes professions of certitude, for ,vhich he has
no ,varrant; but that such on'-hand, confident language
is no token how these persons will express thenlselves
when brought to book. No one
vill ,vith justice con-
sider himself certain of any rnatter, unless he has

ufficiellt reasouß for so
onsidering; and it is rare that
what is Dot true should be so free from every circuul-
sta.nce and tokpn of falsity RS to create no suspicion in

C0111p/ex A ssellt.

197

his n1Índ to its disadvantage, no reason for suspense of
judgment. However, I shall have to remark on this
difficulty by and by; here I will Inention two con-
ditions of certitude, in clo
e connexion \vith tha.t
nece
sary prelin1inary of investiga.tion au<l proof of
which I have becn speaking, which will throw some
light upon it. The one, which is à prif)l.i, or from the
nature of the case, will tell us what is not certitude;
the other, ,vhich is à posterior'i, or fronI expel.jence,
will tell us in a measure what certitude is.
Certitude, as I have said, is the perception of a truth
with the perception thnt it is a truth, or the conscious..
ne
S of knowing, as expreßsed in the phrase, C( I kno\v
that I kno\v," or "I know that I kno\v that I know,"
-or simply" I kno\v ; " for one reflex assertion of the
Inind about self sums up the series of
elf-conscious-
ne
ses ,vithout the need of any actual evolution of theln.
1. But if so, if by certitude about a thing is to
be understood the knowledge of its truth, let it be
considered that what is once true is always true, and
cannot fail, whereas what is once known need not
always be known, and is capable of failing. It follows,
that if I aIll certain of a thing, I believe it will remain
w hat I now hold it to be, even though my mind should
have the bad fortune to let it drop. Since Inere
argument is not the measure ùf a
sent, no one can be
called certain of a proposition, whose mind does not
spontaneously and promptly reject, on their first sug-
gestion, as idle, as impertinent, as sophistical, any
objections whieh are directed against its truth. No
m,ln is certain of a truth. who can endure the thought

198 Assent c01lsidered as l!1l{(llldztiollll t.

of the fact of its contradictory existing- or occurl'Îng;
and that not froln any set purpose or effort to reject
that thought, but, as I have said, by the spontaneous
action of the intellect. \\That is contraùictory to the
truth, ,,,ith its apparatus of argument, fades out of the
mind as fast as it enters it; and though it be brought
back to the mind lver so often by the pertinacity of
an opponent, or by a voluntary or involuntary act of
inlagination, still that contradictory proposition and its
arguillents are l11cre phantoills and dreams, in the light
of our certitude, and their vcry entering into the luilld
is the first step of their g'oing out of it. Such is the
p')sition of our 1uinds towards the heathen fancy tlwlt
Euccladus lies uuder Etlla; or, not to take so extreme
a (,:1:-:e, that Joanna t;outllcote was a messenger from
heaven, or the Blnperor Napoleon really had a star.
Equal to this perenlptory assertion of negative propo-
sitions is the revolt of the Blind from suppositions incom-
patible with positive statements of which we 3,re certain,
whether abstract truths or facts; as that a straight
line is the longest po
sible distance between its two
extreme points, that Great Britain is in shape an exact

quare or circle, that I shall escape dying, or that my
intimate friend is false tf) me.
"..,.. e may indeed say, if we please, that a man ought
IIOt to bave so supreme a conviction in a given case, or
in any case whatever; and that he is therefore wrong
in treating opinions ,vhich he does not himself hold,
,vith this even involuntary contelnpt ;-certainly, ,va
have a right to say so, if we will; but if, in matter of
fact, a man has such a conviction, if he is sure that

COII1PIt-'X A sscnt.

199

I rclanù i$ to the \\t e
t of :England, or th,t.ti the Pope is
the Vicar of Christ, nothing is left to hilu, if ho ,voul,l
he con
istl
nt, but to carry his conviction out into thi

nlagi
terial intolerance of any contrary assertiun; ana
if he were in his own mind tolerant, I do not say patient
(for patience and gentleness are moral duties, but I
mean intellectually tolerant), of objections as úbjections,
he would virtl1ally be giving countenance to the vie"
::;
wl1ich those objections repre!Sented. 1 say I certainly
r-:hould be very intolerant of such a notion as that I
shall one day be Emperor of the French; I should
think it too absurd even to be ridiculous, and that I
lllust be mad before I could entertain it. ....l.ud did a
Ulall try to per
uade mp tbat treachery, cruelty, or in-
gratitude was a.s praiseworthy as honesty and tempe-
rance, and that a man ,vho lived the life of a knave and
died the death of a brute had nothing to fear froln
future retribution, I should think there ,,"as no call on
me to listen to his argulneuts, except ,vith the hope of
converting hilU, though he called me a bigot and it
coward for refusing to inquire into hi8
peculations.
.L\nd if, in a matter in which my temporal interests ,vere
t>oncerned, he attempted to reconcile me to fraudulent.
acts by what he called philosophical views, I should say
to him, " l
etro Satana," and that, not from any sus-
picion of his ability to reverse Îlnmutabh
priucipll's,
but frum a consciousness of my own moral changeable-
ne

, and a fear, ou that account, that 1 might not be
intellectually true to the truth. This, then, from the
nature of the case, is a main characteristic of certitudo
in any matter, to be confiJent indeed that that certitudo

200 A ssellt c01lszderelí as U1l co ndztio1l a I.

\'villlast, but to be confiùent of this also, that, if it did
fail, nevertheless, the thing itself, whatever it is, of
,vhich we are certain, ,vill remain just as it is, true and
irreversible. If this be so, it is easy to instance caç:es
of an adherence to propositions, which does not fulfil
the conditions of certitude; for instance :-
(1.) lIow positive and circuJllstantial disputants lnay
.
be on two sides of a qnestion of fact, on ,vhich they
give their evidence, till they are caned to swear to it,
:ind then how guarded and conditional their testinlony
becomes! Again, ho,v confident. are they in their ri\
al
accounts of a transaction at which they were present,
till a third person makes his appearance, whose wor<1
will be decisive about it! Then they suddenly drop
their tone, and trim their statements, and by provisos
and explanations leave themselves loopholes for escape,
in case his testimony should turn out to their dis-
ndvantage. At first no language could be too bold 0r
absolute to express the distinctness of their knowledge
on this side or that; but second thoughts are best, and
their giving ",'ay shows that their belief does not come
up to the mark of certitude.
(2.) Again, can we doubt that many a confident
expounder of Scripture, who is so sure that St. Paul
meant this, and that Sf. John and St. James did not
nlean that, ,vould be seriously disconcerted at the
presence of those Apostles, if their presence were pos-
sible, and that they have now an especial "boldness of

peech " in treating their subject, because there is no one
authoritatively to set them right, if they are ,vrong?
(3.) Take another instance, in which the absence (If

C01Jlplc
: Assent.

201

certitude; is professed from the first. Though it is a.
matter of faith with Catholics that miracles never cea
e
in the Church, still that this or that professed miraciú
really took place, is for the 1110st part only a n1atter of
opinion, and when it is believed, \vhether on testimony
or tradition, it i8 not believed to the exclusion of all
doubt, whether about the fact or its miraculousness.
'fhus I may believe in the liquefaction of St. Pantaleon's
blood, and believe it to the best of my judgment to be
a miracle, yet, supposing a chenlÍst offered to produce
exactly the same phenomena under exactly sinlilar cir-
curnstances by the ulaterials put at his connnand by his.
science, so as to reduce what seenled beyond nature
within natural laws, I should .watch with some suspense
of mind and misgiving the course of his experilnent, as
having no Divine 'V ord to fall back upon as a ground
of certainty that the liquefaction ".as miraculous.
(4.) Take another virtual exhibition of fear; I mean
irritation and impatience of contradiction, vehclnence of
assertion, deternlination to silence others,-these are
the tokens of a mind ,vhich has not yet attained the
tranquil enjoyment of certitude. No one, I suppose,
would say that he was certain of the plurality of worlds:
that, uncertitude on the subject is just the explanation,
and the only explanation satisfactory to nlY 111Ïnd, of
the strange violence of language which has before now
dishonoured the philosophical contrlJYer
y upon it.
rrhose who are certain of n. fact are indolent di,:>putants;
it is enough for them that they have the truth; and they
}lave little disposition, except at the call of duty, to
criticize the hallucinatIons of others, and much less are

202 A SSCJl! cOllsidcred as llllrolldz'liollat.

they angry at their posjtiveness or ingenuity in argn-
Dlent; but to call names, to impute moti\
es, to accu
e
of sophistry, to be inlpetuous and ov.erbearing, is the
part of men who are alarmed for their o\vn position,
and fear to have it approached too nearly. And In
like manner the intenlperance of language and of
thought, which is
ometimes founù in converts to a
religious creed, is often attributed, not without plausi-
hility (even though erroneously in the particular case),
to SOlne Ha,v in the completeness of their certitude,
which interferes with the harmony and repose of their
convictioll
.
(5.) .Again, this intellectual anxiety, which is inconl-
patible witL certitude, shows itselfin our running back
in our Ininds to the arguments on \vhich ,ve came to
hplieve, in not letting- onr conclusions alone, in going
over and. strengthening the evidence, and, as it ,yere,
getting it by heart, as if onr highest assent were only
an inference. ...lud such too is our unnecessarily de-
claring that ,ve are certain, as if to reassure our
elves,
and our appealing to others fer their suffrage in behalf
of the truths of ".hieh we are 80 sure; which is like
our asking another whether we are ,yeary and hungry,
or have eaten and drunk to our satisfaction.
All laws are general; none are invariable; I am not
writing as a nloralist or casuist. It must f7er be re-
collected that these various phenomena of n1Ïnd, though
signs, are not infallible signs of uncertitude; they may
proceed, in the particular case, from other circum-
stances. Such anxieties and alarms may be merely
emotional and from the itnagination, not intel1pctual;

COlllple;-c A SSCllt.

20 3

p:1rallel to tJw.t beating of the IH'art, nay, as I have lJeen
told, that tren1bling of the limbs, of even the hravest
Inen, before a battle, "hen standing still to recei\"-e the
fir::;t attack of the enclny. Such too is that palpitating
self-inrerroga tion, that troulJle of the mind lest it

houla not believe strongly enough, ,vhich, and not
l1oubt, underlies the sensitiveness described in the
well- known lines,-

" \Vïth e)"es too trembliu'!Iy fi\\'ake,
To bear with dimue
s for His sake."

\.nll so again, a man's over-earnestness in arglunent
may ari
e from zeal or charity; his ilnpatience frOB1
IOJalty to the truth; his extravagance frolll ,vant of
taste, from enthu
iasnl, or fron1 youthful ardour; and
his re
tless recurrence to argnll1ent, not from personal
disquiet, but froln a vivid apprp.ciation of the contro-
ver
ial talent of an opponent, or of his o,vn, or of the
lncre philosophical difficulties of the subject in dis-
pute. rfhese are points for tbo consideration of those
who are concerned in registering and explaining what
Iliay be called the n}eteorological phellolllena of the
}lUllHlll Inind, aud do not interfere ,vith the broad
principle ,,,hich I would lay down, that to fear argn-
Incnt is to doubt the conclusion, and to be cprtain
of a truth is to be careless of objections to it ;-nor
with the practical rule, that mere assent is not certi-
tude, and 111Ust not be coufused with it.
2. XO\\ to consider what Certitude is, Dot simply
as it. must be, but in our actual experience of it.
It i
arocompanied, as a state of mind, by a specifie
fpeling, proper to it, and discriminating it from other

204 Assent cOllsidered as Unco1lditioJlai.

st[lte
, intellect,ual and u1oral, I do not say, as its prac-
tical test or as its dijjè1" p ntia, but as its token, and in a
certain
en
e its form. \Vhen a man says he is certain,
he n1eans he is conscious to hitnsclf of haying this spe-
cific feeling. It is a feeling of
atisfaction and self-
gratulation, of intellectual security, arising out of a
sensE' of succe
s, a tainrnent, posses
iol1, finality, as
regards the 1natter ,vhich Las been in question. As a
conscientious deed is attended by a self-approval which
nothing but it
elf can create, so certitude is united to
a bentiment sui gene1.is in ,vhich it li\TcS and is mani-
fested. The
e two parallel sentiIuellts indeed have no
relationship with each other, the enjoyable self-repose
of certitude being as foreign to a good deed, as .tbe
self-approving glo,v of conscience is to the perception
of a truth; yet knowledge, as well as virtue, is an end,
and both knowledge and virtue, when reflected on,
carry with them respectively their own re\\ ard in the
characteristic sentiment, ,vhich, as I have
aid, is
proper to each. And, as the performance of what is
right is distinguished by this religious peace, so the
attainment of ,vhat is true is attested by this intellec-
tual security.
And, as the feeling of self-approbation, which is
proper to good conduct, does not belong to the sense
or to the possession of the beautiful or of the becolning,
of the pleasant or of the uReful, so neither i
the special
relaxation and repose of mind, which is the token of
Certitude, ever found to attend upon simple Asseut, on
processes of Inference, or on Doubt; nor on Investiga-
tion, conjecture, opinion, as such, or on any other state

C OJJ/þ/c.r .4 ssell t.

20 5

or nction of minll, be
ille::) Certitude. On the contrary,
those acts and states of n1Înd have gratifications proper
to themselves, and unlike that of Certituùe, as ",rill
sufficiently appear on considering them separately.
(1.) Philo
ophers are fond of enlarging on the plea-
sures of l
nu\VleJge, (that is, Knowledge as such,) nor
nectl I here prove that such pleasures exist; but the
repose in self and in its object, as connected with self,
which I attribute to Certitude, does not attach to mere
knowing, that is, to the perception of things, but to
the consciousne
s of having that knowledge. Thø
simple and direct perception of things has its own
great satisfaction; but it must recognize thenl as
realities, and recognize them as known, before it
becomes the perception and has the satisfaction which
belong to certitude. Indeed, as far as I see, the plea-
sure of perceiving truth without reflecting on it as.
truth, is not very ditierent, except in intensity and
iu dignity, fron1 the plca!:'ure, as such, of a
sent or-
lJelief given to what is not true, nay, from the pleasure
of the l11e1'e pa
si\-.e reception of recitals or narratives,.
which neither pl'ofess to be true nor claim to be-
believed. R,ppresentatiolls of any kind are in their-
own nature pleasurable, whether they be true or not,.
whether they come to us, or do not come, as true.
"\Ve read a history, or a biographical notice, with
pleasure; and we read a romance witÌl pleasure; and
a plea
ure which is quite apart from the que
tion of
fact or fiction. Illdped, ,vhen we ,voulù pcr
uaùe.
YOUIl!j people to read history, we teU thl'l11 that it iq.
us interesting-
a.
a rOlnance or a novel. The nH.'re

206 Assent cOllsiclcrcd as ú-ncoJllliliol/at.

acquisition (Jf new images, and those images striking,
great, various, unexpected, beautiful, with lllutual
relations and bearings, as being parts of a ,vhole,
'with continuity, succession, evolution, ,vith recurring
con1plications and corre
ponding solutions, ,vith a
crisis and a catastrophe, is highly pleasurable, quite
inùependent1y of the question whether there is auy
truth in them. I àm not denying that ,ve should be
baulked and disappointed to be told they were a 11
uutrue, but this seems to arise from the reflection tha.t
we have been taken in; not as if the fact of their truth
,vere a distinct element of pleasure, though it would
increase the plea
ure, as investing them with a character
of marvellousness, and as associating them \vith kno\vn
or ascertained places. But even if the pleasure of
kno\\rledg-e is not thus founded on the ilnagination, at
lea
t it doe
not consist in that triuluphallt repose of
the Inind after a. struggle, ,vhich is the characteristic
of Certitude.
.....\nd so too as to such stateillents as gain froln us a
half-assent, as superstitious tale
, storie:::, of magic, of
rOlnantic crilne, of ghoBts, or such as we follow for the
11101l1ent" ith a faint ànd languid assellt,-contpillporary
history, political occurrences, the ne\vs of the day,-the
plea
ure re:-:ulting frolll these is that of novelty or curi-
osity, and is like the pleasure arising from the excite-
lliE'nt of chance and from variety; it has in it no sense
of p05session: it is
imply external to us, and has
nothing akin to the thought of a battle and a victory.
(
.) Again, the Pursuit of knowledge has its own
pleasur(',-as distinct from th{\ pleasures of kno\vleJge,

L.o/Jlþlex lsscllt.

':.07

as \t is di
tinct from tha.t of consciously possessing it.
'This will be evident at once, if we consider what u.
vacuity and depression or Inind sometilnes COlnes upon
us on the tcrnlillatioll of an inquiry, however 1SUCCe
:5-
fully terminated, cOlllpared with the iuterest and spirit
with which we carried it on. rfhe pleasure of a search,
like that of H. hunt, lies in thE:; searching, and ends at
the point at ,vhich the pleasure of Ce
tituùe begins.
Its elements are 3Jtogether foreign to those which go
to compose the serene satisfaction of Certitude. First,
the successive steps of discovery, which attend on an
invC'stigation, are continual and ever-extending infor-
Illations, anJ pleasurable, not only as such, but also as
the evidence or pa.st efforts, and the earnest of success
at the last. Next, there is the interest which attaches
to a mystery, not yet removed, but tending to relnoval,
-the cOlnplex pleasure of wonder, expectation, sudden
surprises, suspense, and hope, of advances fitful yet
sure, to the unknown. .A.nJ there is tbe plpèLsure
which attaches to the toil and conflict of the stroll a ,
o
the consciousness and successive evidences of power,
nloral and intellectual, the pride of ingenuit.v and
Rkill, of industry, patience, vigilance, and perseverance.
Such are the pleasures of illve
tigation and discovery;
and to these we lllUSt adù, ,vhat I have suO" o {rested ill the
v
la.
t bentence, the logical sati
faction, as it may be called J
",'hieh accom p anies these etforts or mind. rfhere is O'reat
'-'
plea::5ure, as is plain, at least to certain n1Ïnds, in pro-
ceeùing from particular facts to principle::;, in general-
izing, di
crilninating, reducing into order and Ineaning'
the maze of phcnolnena which nature presents to U
.

208 Assl'llt rOJlsÙifred as UI/conditional.

This is the kind of pleasure attendant on the treatment
of proLahilities which point at conclusions withoutreach-
ing theIn, or of objections 'which must be \veigheù and
measured, and adjusted for what they are worth, over
and against propositions ,vbich are antecedently evident
It is the bPL'cial plea:sure belonging to Inference as
contrasted with As
ent, a pleasure altnost poetical, as
t,vilight has l
ore poetry in it than noon-day. Sucl) is
the joy of the pleader J \vith a gooù ca
e in hand, au,}
expecting the separate attacks of half a ùozen acute
intellects, each ad,"ancing- from a point of his own. I
snpp(J
e this was the plea:-;ure 'which the Acaden1ics had
in lllind, wheu the) pr'opounded that happines8 lay, not
in finùing the truth, but in
eekillg it. To
eek, iuù
ed,
with the certainty of not finlling ,vhat we seek, cannot
in any serious Tnattpr, be plea
ura.ble, allY l110re than the
labour of
isyphus ur the Danaide
; but when the result
does not concern us very much, clever arguillents anó
rival oneS have the attraction of a game of chance or
skill, whether or not they lead to any definite conclusion.
(3.)
\.re there pleasures of Doubt, as well as uf 1n-
ferencp and of A
sen t ? In one sense, t here are. Not
inùeed, if doubt sinlply means ignurance, uncertainty,
or hopele
s
u!-:p
nse; but there is a certain gra\e
acquiescence in ignorance, a recognition of our im-
potence to solve n1omentous and urgent questions,
which :has a satisfaction of its own. .After high
aspirations, after reuewed endeavours, after boot-
less toil, after long wanderings, after hope, effort,
"eariness, tail ure, painfully alternating and recurring,
it is an immense relief to the exhausted mind

COJJzþle_1: A sse1ll.

20 9

to be able to say, U ..:\.t length I know that I can know
nothing about any thing "-that is, ,vhile it can maIn-
tain it::)clf in a posture of thought ,vhich bas no promi:,e
of permanence, beca.use it is unnatura1. But here the
sutisfaction does not lie in not knowing, but in knowing
there is nothing to know. It is a positive act of assent
or conviction, gi ven to wl1ut in the particular case is an
untruth. It is the assent and the false certitude whicb
are the cause of the tranquillity ot miû.i1. Ignorance re-
mains the evil whioh it Cnyel" ,vas, but something of the
peace of CertitudE:; is gained in knowing the \vorst, and
ill having recollcilpt1 the lllind to the endura.nce of it.

I Inay
een1 to ha \ e been needlessly diffuse in thus
dwelling on the pleasurabie affections severallyattend-
ing on these various conditions of the intellect, but 1
have had a purpose in doing so. That Certitude is a
natural and normal state of mind, and not (as is son1e-
time:; objected) one of its extravagances or infirll1ities,
is proved indeed by the rerrJarks which I have Inade
above on tbe
;alne objection, as direct'ðd against Assent;
for Certitude is only one of its fOrIn
. But I have
thought it ,veIl in nd{Ftion to SU
.'{f
st, even at the ex-
pen
e of a digresslon, tlJat as no one ,vould refuso tu
lnquiry" Doubt, and Knowledgo a legitirnate place
among our lnental constituents, so no one can reasonably
ignore a state of Jninù which not only is shown to be
eubstantive by possessing a
entiment sui generis and
c1wu'acteristic, but is analogical to Inquiry, Doubt" and
Know)eilJ{e, in the fact of it
thus having a sentiment
uf iff; own.

1)

C.fI..
Pl'ER VII.

CEHTITUDE.

1. ÅSSENl' AND CERTITUDE CONTRASTED.

IN rr(l
epding to compare together simple assent aurl
complex, that is,
\..5sellt find Certitude, I begin by
observing, that. popularly no distinction is made between
the t'vo; or rather, that in religious teaching that is
called Certitude to which I have givel1 the name of
oL\.s
ent. I have no difficulty in adopting such a use of
the word
, though the course of illY investigation has
led nJe to another. Perhaps religious assent lllay be fitly
called, to U8e a theological term" " Inatcrial certitude;"
aHa the first point of cOll1parisOll ,vhich I shall make
between the two states of mind, ,vill serve to set l11e
right with the conlmon ,yay of speaking.
1. It certainly follo,vs then, from the distinctions
which I Lavt' made, that great number
of n1en n1ust
be considered to pass through life ,vith neither dou 1t
nor, on the other Land, certitudp (as 1 11ave used the
words) on tbe n10st important propositions which can
occupy their minds, but with only a simple assent, tinati

A sscut a1ld Certitude c01ltrasted. 2 I I

is, an assent which they barely recognize" or bring home
to theil' consciousness or reflect upon, as being assent.

uch an a
sent is nIl that religious Protestants COln-
nlonly l:ave to 8ho", who believe nevertheless with
theil' whole hearts the contents of Holy Scripture.
Such too is the state of minù of n1ultitudes of good
Catholic
, perhaps the Dlajority, who live and die in a
simple, full, :61'111 belief in all that the Church teaches,
because she teaches it,-in the belief of the irreversible
truth of whatever
he defines and declares,-but who,
as being far removed fl'om Protestant and other dis-
sentients, and having but little intellectual training,
have never had the temptation to doubt, and never the
opportunity to be certain. There were whole nation
in
the middle ages thus steeped in the Catholic Faith, who
never used its doctrines as matter for argnD1ent or re-
search, or changed. the original belief of their childhood
into the nlore scientific convictions of philosophy. .As
tl1Cre is a condition of mind which is characterized by
invincible ignorance, so there is another which may be
said to be po

e
seù of invincible knowledge; and it
would be par'adoxical in me to deny to such a mental
state the highest quality of religious faith,-I mean
certitude.
I allow this, and therefore I will call sinlple assent
'mati rial certitude; or, to u
e a stilllno
'e appo
ite term
for it, interpl.etatire certitude. I call it interpretative,
signifying thereby that, though the as
ent in the indi..
viùuals here conteillplated is not a reflex act, still the
que:::;tion only has to be started about the truth of the
objects of their assent, in order to elicit frolll thelll an
p 2

212

Certitude.

act of faith in response whicb will fulfil the conditions
of certitude, as I have drawn them out. As to the argu-
mentative process necessary for such an act, it is valid
and sufficient, if it be carried out seriou
ly, and propor-
tionate to their several. capacities :-" '
ehe Catholic
Religion is true, because its objects, as present to nlY
Inind, control and influence nlY conduct as nothing else
does ;" or cc because it has about it an odour of truth and
sanctity sui generis, as perceptible to my moral nature as
flowers to my sense,such as can only come from heaven;"
or cc because it has never l>cen to me any thing but
peace, joy, consolll.tion, and strength, all through my
troubled life." And if the particular argulnent used in
some instances needs strengthening, then let it be
ob
erved, that the keenness of thereal apprehension ,vith
which the assent is made, though it cannot be the
legitimate basis of the assent, may still legitimately act,
and strongly act, in confirll1ation. Such, I say, ,vould
be the prolnptitude and effectiveness of the reasoning,
ana the facility of the change frolll assent to certitude
proper., in the ca
e of tbe nlul:.itude8 in question, did the
occasion for reflection occur; but it does not occur; and
accordingly, 11lOst gelluillf1 and thorough as is the
as
ent, it can only be called virtual, material, or inter-
pretative certitude, if I have above eXplained certitude
rightly.
Of course these remarks hold good in secular subjects
as well as religious :-1 believe, for instance, that I am
living in an isla.nd, that Julius Cresar once invaded it,
that it has been conquered by successive races, t.hat it
has had great political and social changes, and that at

A ssellt fl11d Certitude cOllt1'asted. 2 13

this time it has colonies, establishments, and imperial
dominion aU over the earth. 1\.11 thi8 I am accustomed
to tale for granted without a thought j but, were the
nerd to arise, I should not find much difficulty in
,-1rawing out from my own mental resources reasons
sufficient to justify me in these beliefs.
It is true inùeed that, among the multitudes ,vho are
thus implicitly certain, there may be those ,vho would
change their assents, aid they seek to place theln upon
an argumentative footing; for instance, some believers
in Christianity, did they exarnine into its claims, might
end ill renouncing it. But this is only saying that
there are genuine nssents, and assents that ultirnate]y
becolne not genuine; and again, that there is an assent
which is not a virtual certitude, and is lost in the attenlpt
to n1ake it certitude. .And of course we are Dot gifteJ
with tbat insight into the lninds of individuals, which
enables us to deterluine before the event, when it is that
an að
l'nt is realJy such, and when not, or not a deeply
rooted a
sent. )[eu may assent lightly, or frolll lnere
prejuùice, or without understanding what it i8 to
which they assent. 'rhey may be genuine believers in
R -'velation up tQ the tin1e when they begin forlnally to
examille,-nay, anù really Laveimplicit rea
ons for their
belief,-and then, being overcome by the nurnber of
view's which they have to confront, and
wayed by the
urgency uf special objections, or biassed by their
illlaginations, or frightened by a deeper insight into the
claims of religion upon the soul, may, in spite of their
habitual and latent grounds for believing, shrink back
hnù wÌthdl"a\\ tlleir assent. Or again, they Jnay once

214

Certitude.

have believed, but their assent has gradually become a
mere profession, ,vithout their knowing it; then, when
by accident they interrogate thelnse]ves, they find no
assent within them at aU to turn into certitude. The
event, I
ay, alone determines \vhether ,vhat is out-
,vardly an assent is really such an act of the mind a

ndn1its of being developed into certitude, or is a merp
self-delusion or a cloak for unbelief.
2. Next, I observe, that, of the two modes of ap-
prehending propositions, notional and real, assent, as I
have already said, has closer relations with real than
with notional. No\v a simple assent neeJ not bp
notional; but the reflex or confirmatory assent of ce1'-
tituùe always is given to a notional proposition, viz. to
the truth, necessity, duty, &c., of our assent to the
siulple assent and to its proposition. lts predicate is a
generaì term, and cannot stand for a fact, whereas the
original proposition, included in. it, may, and often does,
express a fact. rrhus," The cholera is in the midst of
us" is a real proposition; but" Tha1i 'the cholera is in
the n1ids1i of us' is beyond an doubt " is a notional.
K o,v aso;;:ent to a real proposition is assent to an ilnagi-
nation, and an illlagiuation, as supplying objects to OUI"
emotional and D10ral nature, is adapted to be a prin-
ciple of action: accordingly, thp sinlple assent to "The
cholera is anlong us," is 1ìlOre f!ll1phatic and operative, than
the confirn1atory assent, " It is beyond rea!Sonable doubt
that' the cholera is anlongus.'" The confirmation gives
momentum to the complex act of the mind, but the
simple assent gives it its edge. 'fhe simple assent would
still be operative in its IDPasure, though the reflex assent

A sseJlt alld (.. rtitllde cOlzlrasltd. 2 15

\\ as, not " It iö undeniable," but" It is probabl
" that
"the cholera is anlong us ;" wherp3.s there would be no
operative force in the lllelltal act at all, though the
retlex rl"..-cnt was to the truth, not to the prohahility of
the fact, if the fact which ,vas the o1ject of the f.;ilnph

assent was nothing nlore than" The cholera is in China."
Thl' reflex a:s
ellt then, 'which is tbe characteristic of
certitude, ÙOl;::; not immediately touch us; it i
purely
intellectual, anù, taken by itself, has scarcely more force
than the recording of a conclusion.
I have taken an in
tance, in which the 11latter which
j
sublllitted for exan1Ínation and for a
::;ent, can
LarJly fail of being intere
tillg to the minds elnployeJ
upon it; but in nlany cases, even tbough the fact
a
sented-to has a bearing upon action, it is not
directly of a nature to influence the feelings or con-
duct, c'(cept of padicular per
OIlS. ...-\.nd in such
instances of certitude, tIll' previous labour of coming
to a conclusiun, and that repose of nlind which I
have dùov'e described as attendant on an assent to
its truth, often counteracts whatever of lively sen
a-
tion the fact thus concluded is in itself adapted to
excite;
o that what is gaincd in (1ppth and exactne
s
of belief is lost fiS regar<ls freshness and vigour.
Hence it i::; that literary or scientific men, who n1ay
have investigate1 SOine difficult point of history,
philosophy, or pLysics, anJ have come to their own
settled conclusion about it, having had a perfect
right to forlll one, are far luore disposed to be silent
as to their cunvictioll
, and to let others alone, than
parti
an
OIl either side of tbe qUt.:ðtioD, who take it

216

Certitude.

up with less thought aud
priousness. And 80 ag:un,
in the religious world, no one seems to look for any
great devotion or fervour in controversialists, \vriters
on Christian Evidences, theologians, and the like, it
being taken for granted, rightly or ,vrongly, that
such luen are too intellectual to be spiritual, and are
11101"e occupied with the truth of doctrine than ,vith
..
its reality. It
on the other hand, we would see
,,'hat the force of simple assent can be, viewed apart
froro its reflex confh'mation, ,ve have but to look at
the generous and uncalculating energy of faith as
exelnplified in the prill1Ïtive
Iartyrs, in the youths who
defied the pagan tyrant, or the maidens \V ho were
silent under his tortures. It is assent, pure and sinlple,
which is the motive cause of great achiov'oments; it is
a confidence, growing out of in!-'tincts rather than argu-
ments, stayed upon a vivid apprehension, and aniruated
by a transcendeut logic, more concentrated in will and
in deed for the very reason that it has not been sub-
jected to aUJ intellectual developn1ent.
It must be borne in ullnd, that, in thus speaking, I
fun contrasting with ench other the silnple and the
reflex assent, which together Inake up the conlplex act
of certitude. In its conlplete exhibition keenness in
believing is united with repose and persistence.
3. 'Ve must take the constitution of the hun1an
mind as we fiud it, and not as we may judge it ought
to be ;-thus I am led on to another remark, which is
at first sight disadvantageous to Certitude. Introspec-
tion of our intellectual operations is not the best of
means for preserving us from intellectual hesitations

A sscn! and Certitude contrasted. 21 7

'ro meddlp with the springs of t.hought find action is
really to ,,'eakcn thetn; and, as to that argumentation
which is the preliluinary to Certitude, it may indeed
be unavoidable, but, as in the case of other serviceahle
alliù8, it is not so easy to discard it, after it bas done
it
,,'ork, as it was in the fir::;t instance to obtain its
assistance. Que
tioning, ,,'hen encouraged on any
suLject-nlatter, readily becomes a habit, and leads the
Jnilld to substitutp exercises of inference for as
ent,
whether sinlple or coulplex. Reasons for assenting
sl1gge
t reasons for not assenting, and wbat were
realities to our imagination, whilp. our assent was
simple, ll1ay become little Blore than notions, when ,ve
b:n'e attaiucù to certitude. Objections anò difficuìties
tell upon the Inl!HI; it :-nfJY l()s
its elasticity, and be
una hIe to throw then1 off. ...\nd thus, even as regards
tJlÎngs which it may be ab
ut'd to doubt, we mav, in
COllscf}uellce of son1e past suggestion of the pos.
ibility
of error, or of
on1e chance association to their dis-
ad\-antage, be tea zed from tiluP to till1e and hUlnpered
by involuntary que:-;tionings, as if "'e were not ceJ.tain,
when We are. Nay, there are those, who arp visited
with these even permanently, as a sort of musco'
t'olilante
of their tnental vision, ever flitting to anù
fro, and diruming its clearness and cOllipletenes
-
,isit:lnt:-;, for which they are not respon
ible, and which
they kno,v to be unreal, still so se iouslv interfering
with their con1fort and even with their energy, that they
Dlay be tenlpted to conlplain that even blinù prejudice
Las more of quiet aud of durability than certitude.
A':5 even Saints may suffer froill imaginations ill which

218

Certztude.

they have no part, so the shreds and tatters of former
controversies, and t.he litter of an argumentative habit,
may be:-,et and obstruct the illtel1ect,-questions which
have been solved without their solutions, chains ofreasoll-
iug with Ini
::;ing links, difficulties ,vhich have their roots
in the nature of things, and which ar
necessarily left
behind ill a philosophical inquiry becau::;e they cannut bp
I'ernoved, and which call for tLo exercise of good scnse
and for ::,tl'cngth of will to put them down with a high
hand,asirrationalorprepostcrous. 'VhencecoITIcspvil?
why ar
w(\ created without our consent? ho\v can thp
Suprclue Being have no beginning? ho\v can lIe need
skill, if lIe is olllnipotcnt? if lIe is oJl1nipotent, wIlY
does lie perrllit SUff
l'illg? If He perll1Ïts suffering, how
is lie all-loving? if He is all-loving, ho\y can He be
just? if lIe is infinite, \vhat has He to do ,vith the
finite? how can the terl1porary be decisiye of the eter-
llaL ?-these, and a host of like questions, n1u"'-t arise in
every thoughtful mind, and, after the best use of reason,
lllust be deliberately put aside, as beyond reason, as (so
to speak) no-thoroughfares, which, having no outlet
theruselves, have no legitimato power to ùi\el't us from
tlle ICing's higll\vay, and to hinder the direct course of
religion
inquiry from reachiug its dest.ination. A.
serious ob
tl'uction, however, they ,viU be no,v and then
to particular ruillds, enfeebling the faith which thoy
cannot destl'oy,-being parallel to the uncoIl1fol'table
associations with whieh sometilnes we regard one \vhom
we bave fallen-in with, acquaintance or stranger, arising
fruln SOine chünce word, look, or action of his ,vhich we
have witnessed, and \vhich prej ::Idices him in our ilnagi-

Assent and Ccrlilz{(le coutraslclt. 21 9

nation, though we are angry with ourselves that it
::,houlù ùo so.
Agaju, when, in confiùcnce of our own certituùe, and
with a view to philosophical fairncss, we have uttcrnpted
successfuBy to throw ourselve
out of our habits of belief
into a simply dispas"ionate frrune of u1Ïlld, then vague
allt
ceùcIlt irnprobaùìlities, or what
eem to us a
such,
-Inerely what is strange or Inarvellous in certain truths,
luerely the fact that things happen ill one way and not
in alluthf'r, "Then they rnn.5t happen in
OUle way,-rnay
di':>tnrh us, a
suggesting to us, Co Is it pos
ible? who
would have thoug"ht it! ,vhat a coineidence !" without
really touching the deep assent of OUI" whole intellectual
being to the object, whate\'cr it bc, thus irrationally
a

ailed. Thus we rnay wonder at the Divine :ßIercy of
the Incarnation, till we grow startled at. it, and ask ,vhy
the earth has
o special a theological history, or why we
are Christians and other
not, or how God can rpally
px('rt a particular governance, since II
does not punish
such
i nncI'S as ,ve are, thu!-; seeIning to don bt ni
power
or IIis equit.y, though in truth .we are not doubting at all.
The occasion of this intellectual \yaywanlness may be
slighter
till. I gaze on the Palatine Ilill, or on the
Parthenon, or on the Pyramid
, which I have read of
frOIll a boy, or upon the nlatter-of-fact reality of the
sacred places in the IToly Land, aud I have to force Iny
irnagination to follow thp gniJanclo of
ight anù of
rea
Ull. It is to tne so strange that a lifelong belief
should be changetl into sight, and thing;;; should be
so near me, which hitherto had been visions. Aud
80 in times, first of suspense, then of joy; ",rhen the

220

Cel,tilude.

Lord turned the captivity of Sion, then" (according to
the Hebre\v text)"we were like unto them that dream."
Yet it was a dream which they were certain was a truth,
while they seemed to doubt it. So, too, 9.vas it in some
sense ,vith the Apo&tlcs after our Lord's resurrection.
Such vague thoughts, haunting or evanescent, are in
no sense akin tothat struggle between faith null unbelief,
which Tnaùe the poor father cry out, (( I believe, help
Tholl llline unbelief! " Nay, even what in some Ininds
se('n)
like all undercurrent of scepticism, or a ïaith
founded on a perilous substratum of doubt, need not be
more than a temptation, though robbing Certitude of its
norma] peacefulness. In such a case, faith lllay still cx-
pres
the steady conviction of the intellect; it may still
be the grave, deep, calm, pruùent assurance of Inature
experience, though it is not the ready and impetuous
as
ent of the young, the generous, or the unrefieeting.
4. There is another characteristic of Certitude, in
contrast with Assent, which it is irnportant to insist
upon, nnll that is, its ppl'sistcnce. Assents n1ay and do
change; certitudes endure. This is \vhyreIigilln detnands
more than an assent to its truth; it requires a certitude,
or at least an assent ,vhich is convertible into certitude
on denland. 'Yithout certitndf' in religious faith there
mny be much llecency of profession and of observance,
but there can be no habit of prayer, no directness of
devotion, no intercour::;e ,vith the unseen, no generosity
of self-sacrifice. Certitude then is essential to the
Christian; and if Le is to persev<?re to the end, his
certitude must include in it a principle of persistence.

rhis it has; as I
hall explain in the next
ection.

/lldefectzõztlty oj Certztude. 221

2. INDEFECTIBILITY OF CERTITUDE.

Ir is the characteristic of certitude that its ohject is a
tl'uth} a truth as such, a proposition as true. rrhere
are right and wrong convictions, and certitude is a
right conviction; if it is not right with a consciou
ness
of being right, it is not certitude. :Now truth cannot
change; what is once truth is always truth; and the
hUInah mind is maùe for truth, and so rests in truth.
a
it cannot rest in falscLooù. \Yhen then it once
becolncs possessed of a truth, what is to dispossess it ?
Lut this is to be certain; therefore once certitude,
always certituùe. If certituùe in any Inatter be the
terlllination of aU doubt or fear about its truth, and an
unconditional consciou
adherence to it, it carries with
it an inward assnrance, strong though implicit, tbat it
sball never fail. Indefectibility ahnost enters into its
very idea, enters into it at least so far as this, that its
failure, if of frequent occurrence, would prove that
certitude was after all and in fact an impossible act,
nntl tha.t what lookeù like it ,vas a !nere extra,vagance
of the intellect. rrruth woulJ still be truth, but the
kuowledge ()f it would be beyond us and unattainable.
It is of great in1portance then to show, that, as a
general rule, certitude does not fail; that failures of

222

CcrtitlLttC.

\V hat was taken for certitur1e are t1le exception; that
the intellect, which is ruadA for truth, can attain truth,
and, having attained it, can keep it, can recognize it,
and preserve the recognition.
This is on the whole reasonable; yet are the stipu-
lations, thus obviou::,ly neces
ary for an act or state of
certitude, ever fulfilleù? ,\ e kno\v what conjecture
is, and ,vuat: opIuion} anll what assent is, call we point
out any specific state or habit of thought, of ,vhich the
distinguishing nlark is unchangeableness? On the
contrary, any conviction, false as well as true, may last;
and any conviction, true as well as false, lllay be lost.
A conviction in favour of a proposition may be ex-
changed for a conviction of its contl'aùictory; and each
of theln T1Jay be attcntled, ,vhile they last, by that
ense
of security aud repo
c, which a true object alone can
lcgitilnately ilnpart. No line can be drawn between
such real certitudes as have truth for their objpct, and
apparent certitudes. No distinct test can be lUtnled,
sufficient to di:scrirninate between what rnay be called
the falRe prophet anù the true. \\That look
like certi-
tude always is exposed to the chance of turning out to
be a n1Ïstake. If our intinlate, deliberate con viction
may be counterfeit in the case of one proposition, why
not in the case of another? if in the case of one nUln,
why not in the case of a hundred? Is certitude then
e\"er possible without the attendant gift of infallibility?
can we know what is right in one case, uuless we are
secured against error in any? Further, if one nlan is
infallible, why is he different from his brethren? unless
indeed he is distinctly marked out for the prerogative.

llltlt:fictióilit), of Certitlule. 223

ì\[nst not all nlen be infallible by consequence, if any
Inan is to be considered as certain?
The ùifliculty, thu
stated arguruentatively, has only
too accurate a response in what actually goes on in tho
world. It is n fact of daily occurrence that n1en change
their certitudes, that is, ,vhat they consider to be such,
ana are as confident anù well-established in th(\ir new
opinions 3.S they were once in their old. They take up
forlllS of religion only to leave them for their contra-
dictories. They risk their fortunes and their Ii \Tes on
iln possibleadventure
. They COIn tnit thl'Insel ves by word
and deed, in reputation and position, to schelnes which
ill the event they bitterly repent of nnd renounce; they
set out in youth with intemperate confillence in prospects
which fail theIll, and in friends who betray thein, ere
they come to middle age; alid they end their days in
cJnical disbelief of truth and virtue any ,vhere; -and
often, the lnore absurd are their lneans anù their cads, so
lnnch the longer do they cling to theIn, and then again
so mnch the more pas
ionate is their e\"entual disgust
anù contempt of theIne l-low then can certitude be
theirs; how is certitude possible at all, considering it
is so often Illisplaced, so often fickle and inconsistent, so
deficient in available criteria? And, as to the feeliug of
finality and security, ought it ever to be inllulgcd? Is
it not a n1ere weaknc:;s or extra\.agance, a deceit, to be
e
chewed by every clear and prudent inind? 'Yith the
countless instances, on an sides of us, of human falli-
bility, with the constant exhibitions of antagonist
certitude
, who can so sin against modesty and
sobriety of tuinù, as not to be content ,vith probability"

224

CertItude.

a
the true guide of life, renouncing ambitious
thoughts, which are sure either to delude hin1, or to
di
appoint ?
This is \vhat Inay be objected: now let us see what
can be said in answer, particularly as'regards religious
certitude.

1.

First, as to fallibility and infallibility. It is very
COlllIDon, doubtless, especially in religious controversy,
to confuse infallibility with certituùe, and to argue th3,t,
since we have not the one, \ve have not the other, {or that
no one can claim to be certain on any point, ,vho is not
infallible about all; but the t\VO words stanù for things
quite di
tinct frOIll each other. For exalnple, 1 relnem-
Ler for certain \vhat I did yest-erday, but still IllY u1emory
i:::; not infaHible; I aIl1 quite clear that two and two
nlake foul', but I often make mistakes in long addition
StIlns. I have no doubt whatever that John or Richard
i
IllY true friend, but I have before now trusted those
who failed Iue, and I may do so again before I die. 3-
certitude is directed to this orthat particularpropositioll j
it is not a faculty or gift, but a disposition of ulind rela-
tively to a definite case which is before 111e. Illfallibi-
1ity, on the contrary, is ju"t that which certitude is not;
it ,is a faculty or gift, and relates, not to SOllIe Olie truth
ill particular, but to aU possible proposi tions ill a given
subject-matter. \Ve ought in strict propriety, to speak,
not of infallible acts, but of acts of infallibility. A belief
or opinion as little adlllit
of beiug called infallible, as a
deed can correetly be called in1mortal. A deed is done
and over; it may be great, lTIOnlcntous, efl'ective, any-

IJldcjcctibz/it), of Certitlllie. 225

tl1ing but ilnluortal; it is its fame, it is the work which
it brings to pa
s,
\'hich is inllnùrtal, not the decll it
clf.
...\ntl a
a deed is good or bad, but never iln IHortal, so
a belief, opinion, or certituLle is true or false, but never
infaHible. '\T" 0 cannot speak of things which exist or
things which once ,vere, as if they ,vel'e something in
pos
e. It i
persons and rules that are infallible, not
what is brought out into act, or cOlnrnitted to paper.
A Jl1an is infallible, whose words are always true; a
rule is infallible, if it i
unerring in all its pos
ible
applications. An infallible authority is certain in every
particular case that may arise; but a man who is
certain in some one t.lefiuite case, is not on that aCCOUD t
infallible.
I am quite certain that Victoria is our Sovereign 7
and not LeI' father, the late Duke of Kent, ,vithout
laying any claim to the gift of infallibility; as I lllay
do a virtuous action, without being impeccable. I
ma.y be certain that the Church is infallible, while I
aU1 myself a fallible mortal; otherwise, I caullot be
certain that the Supreme Being is infallible, until I
a.m infallible 111Y:5elf. It is a strange objection, then,
which is sometiu1es urged against Catholic::;, that they
cannot prove and a

ent to the Church's infallibility,
unless they first believe in their own. Certitude, as I
have said, is directed to one or otber definite concrete
proposition. I am certain of propòsition one, two,
three, four, or five, one by one, each by itself. I mar
be certain of one of them, without being certain of the
rest; that I am certain of the first n1akes it neither
likely nor unlikely that I am certain of the second;
Q

226

Ccrtitlldc.

but were I infnl1ible, then I should be certain, not only
of one of them, but of aU, and of many more beside
,
which have never come before Ine as yet. Therefore
,ve may be certain of the infallibity of the Church, ,vhile
we adlnit that in many things we are not, and cannot
be, certain at all.
It is wonderful that a clear-headed man, like
<.Jhilling,vol'th, sees this as little as the run of every-
{lay objectors to the Catholic religion; for in his
('clebl'ated "1{eliO'ion of Protestan ts" he ,vrites as
o
follows :-" You ten Dle they cannot be saved, unless
they believe in your proposals ,vith an infallible faith.
To ,vhich end tbpy 11lUSt believe also your pro-
pounder, the Church, to be simply infallible. Kow
110\\ is it possible for thenl to giye a rational assent
tu the Church's infal1ibility, 1.LJzle:ss they hnve SOUle
infallible means to liJWW that she is infallible?
X either can they infallibly kllO\V the infallibility of
this means, but by some ùthor; and so on for ever,
unless they can dig so deep, as to caDle at length to
the l{ock, that if;, to settle all upon sOlnething evident
of itself, ,,-hich is not so much as pretended." 1
N O\V what is an "infal1ible means"? It is a lneans
of conling at a fact without the chance of mistake. It
is a proof which is sufficient for certitude in the
particular case, or a proof that is certain. 'Vhen then
ChiUingwarth says that there can be no "rational
assent to the Church's infallibility" without "some
infallible means of knowiug that she is infallible,"
ho llleans nothing else than some means ,vhich IS
1 ii. u. 154. ride Xote I at the en'! of the volume.

llllícfi:ctibiILt.y of Ccrlillule.
:? 7

cprtain; he Rays that fOI' a rational as
pnt tu in
fallibility there must be an absolutely valid or certaiu
proof. This is intelligible; but observe how his
arglllnent \vill run, if wordeù according to this in-
terpretation: "The doctrine of the Church's infalli-
bility requires a proof that is certain; and that
ccrtain proof requires another previous certain proof,
and that again another, anù so on ad Úrlìnillllllo,
unless indeed ,ve dig so deep as to settle all upon
something evident of itself." "That is this but to
say that nothing in this \vorld is certain but wbat
is self-evident? that nothing can be absolutely provcù ?
Can he really mean this? "That then becornes of phy-
sical truth? of the discoveries in optics, chemistry, and
electricity, or of the science of motion? Intuition by
it
l'lf will carry us but a little. \vay into that circle of
knowledge \V hich is the boast of the present age.
I can believe then in the infallible Church without
Jny own personal infallibility. Certitude is at lllOst
nothing luore than infallibilitYP'l"o hac vice, and promises
nothing as to the truth of any proposition beside its
own. That 1 am ccrtain of this proposition to-day, is
Do grounù for thinking that I shall haye a right to be
certa.in of that proposition to-IllOrrO\V; and that I alU
\\ rong in my convictions about to-day's proposition,
does not hinder my having a true conviction, a. genuine
certitu!1e, about to-ulorrow's proposition. If indeed 1
claiu1cù to be infallible, one failure would shiver my
clailn to picces; but I may clainl to be certain of tho
truth to which I have already attained, though I shuuld
à
'rive at no new t.ruths in addition as ìùn U' as I Ii \,"p.
o
Q 2

228

Cer tit ude.

2.
Let us put aside the word "infallibility;)) let us
understand by certitude, as I have eXplained it, nothing
more than a relation of the mind to,vards given propo-
sitions :-still, it may be urged, it involves a sense of
security and of repo
e, at least as regards these in parti-
cular. K ow ho\v can this security be lnine,-without
,vhicb certitude is not,-if I kno\v, as I kno,v too well,
that befure now I have thought myself certain, ,vhen I
was certain after all of an untruth? Is not the very
possibility of certitude lost to me for ever by that one
Inistake? "That happened once, may happen again.
All 111Y certitudes before and after are henceforth de-
stroyed by the introduction of a reasonable doubt,
underlying thenl aIL Ipso facto they cease to be-
certitudes,-they conIC short of unconditional assents
by the Ineasure of that counterfeit a
8urunce. They
nre nothing more to me than opinions or anticipa-
tions, judglnents on the verisilnilitude of intellectual
views, not the posse

ion and enjoynlent of truths.
And \vho has not thus been balked by false certitulles
a hundred times in the course of his experience? and
ho,v can certitude have a legitimate place in our mental
constitution, ,vhen it thus manifestly ministers to error
and to scepticism?
This is \vhat may be objected, and it is not, as I think,.
difficult to answer. Certainly, the experience of mistakes
in the assents ,vhich we have made are to the prejudice
of subsequent ones. There is an antecedent difficulty
in our allowing ourselves to bA certain of something

f')ulefi.:clibllil)' of L
t.:rtzillde. 22<}

to-dRY] if yesterday w(\ llart to give up our belief of
sOInething el
e, of ,vhich we had up to that tinle
professed ourselves to be certain. rrhis is true; but
anteceùent objections to an act are not suffì0ient of
theln
elves to prohibit its exercise; thf'Y Inay dClnalld
of us an increa
cd circunlspection before committing'
ourselves to it, but nlay be met with reasons more
than sufficient to overCOIlle them.
It nlust be recollected that certitude is a deliberate
assent given expressly after reasoning. If then IllY cer-
titude is unfounded] it is the reasoning that is ill fault,
not my assent to it. It is the law of nlY mind to !Se
ll
up the conclusions to which ratiocination has brought
Joe] by that formal assent which I have called a certi-
tude. I could indeed have ,vithheld my assent, but I
should have acted against my nature, had 1 done so
when there ,vas ,vbat I considered a proof; and I did
only what was fit.ting] ".hat was incurnbent 0111ne, upon
thosp c-xisting conditions] ill giving it. This is the pro-
cess Ly which knowledge acculnulates and is ::;tored up
Loth in the individual and in the world. It has 80n1e-
timps heen remarked, when men have boasted of the
knowledge of modern times, that no ,vonder we see more
than the ancients, bec
use we are mounted upon their
shoulders. The conclusions of one generation are the
truths of the next. 'Ve are able, it is our duty, deli-
berately to take things for granted which our forefathers
had a duty to doubt about; and unless ,ve sUlumarily
put do\vn disputation on points which have been already
proved and ruled, we shall ,vaste our time, and tl1ake no
aJvances. Circumstances indeed Inay ari
e) when a

23 0

Ccrtitulle.

question may legitimately be revived, ,vhich luts alreaùy
been definitely determined; but a re-consideration of
such a question need not abruptly unsettle the exi
ting
certituùe of those ,vho engage in it, or throw them into
a scepticism about things in general, even though
eventually they find they have been 'wrong in a particu-
lar matter. It ,vould have been absurd to prohibit the
controversy which has lately been held concerning the
obligations of Newton to l>ascal; and supposing it had
i

ued in their being established, the partisans of
K e,vton ,,'ould not have thought it necessary to re-
nounce t11e11' certitude of the law of gravitation itself,
on the ground that they had heen mistaken in their
certitude that :Newton discovered it.
If we are never to be certain, after having been once
certain 'wrongly, then we ought never to attelnpt a
proof Lecause we have once DUtÙe a bad one. ErrorR
in reasoning are lps
on
and warnings, not to give up
rea-;ùning, but to reason with greater caution. It is
absurd to break np the whole structure of our know-
ledge, which is the glory of the human intellect, because
the jnteBect is not infaJlible in its conclusions. If in
any particular case ,ve have been mistaken in our infer-
ences and the certitudes which followed upon theI11"
,ve are bound of course to take the fact of this mistake
into account, in making up our minds on any new
question, before ,ve proceed to decide upon it. But if,
while weighing the argulnents on one side and the
other and dra,ving our concJusion, that old nlÏstake
has already been allowed for, or has been, to use a
familiar mode of speaking, discounted, tllen it has no

11lacjcclzbilil)' of Certitude. 23 J

outst'lnding clainl against. our acceptance of that con-
clusiau, after it has actually been dra\vn. 'Vhatevcr
he th(-> legitiuHl,te weight of the fact of that mistake in
our inquiry, justice has been done to it, before we have
allowed ourselves to be certain again. Suppose I am
walking out in the moonlight, and see dimly the out-
lines of some figure among the trees j-it is a nUln. I
ùra w nearer,-it is still a nlan; nearer still, and aU
hesitation is at an end, -I am certain it is a man. But
he neither moves, nor speaks when I address him; and
then I ask Inyself what can be his purpose in hiding
alnong the trees at such an hour. I COllle quite close
to him, and put out my arln. Then I fì lid for certain
tbat what I took for a ntan is but a singular shadow,
form8d by the falling of the moonlight on the inter-
stices of some branches or their foliage. AnI I not to
indulge my second certitude, because I ,yas wrong in
my first? does not any objection, ,vhich lies against
tny second from the failure of my first, fade away be-
fore the evidence on which lilY second is foullùed ?
Or again: I depose on my oath in a court of justice,
to tbe best of my kuowledge and belief, thatI was robbed
by the prisoner at the bar. fJ."hen, 'when the real offender
is brought before me, I alll obliged, to my great confu-
sion, to retract. Because I have been mistaken ill my
certitude, may I not at least be certain that I have been
mistaken? And further, in spite of the shock w hic T
that mistake gives me) is it impossible that the sight ot
the real culprit olay give me so luminous a convictioii
that at length I have got the right man, that, were it
decent towards the court, or consistent with Relf-respect..

2"'2
.)

Certitude.

I 111ay finò my
elf prepared to s wear to t1Ie identity of
the second, as I have already solemnly comtnitteù IllY self
to the identity of the first? It is manifest that the
two certitudes stand each on its own La.:--is, and the
antcceJcllt objection to lny admis
ion of a truth ,vhich
was brought home to 111e second, Jrawn frulll a hallu-
cination which canlC first, is a l11e1'e abstract argunlent,
itnpotent when directed against good evidence lying
in the concrete.

3.

If in t.hA criminal ca
(\ which J have been supposing,
the second certitude, felt by a ,vitness, was a legitimate
state of mind, so ,vas the firt\t. .An act, vie,ved in itself,
is not wrong hecau
e it is done ,vrougJy. Fabe certi-
tudes arf' faults because they are false, not because they
are (supposed) certitudes. They are, 01' rnay be, the
attell1pt..; and tbe failures of an intellect ill
ufficiently
trained, or off its guarù. ..A..ssellt i:-, an act of the mind,
congenial to its Bature; and it, as other acts, Jl1ay be
nlacle both 'v hen it ought to Le 11l
1(1e, anù when it
ought not. It is :1 free act, a per
onal act for which
the doer is responsi1le, and the actual n1Î
takes in
nlaking it, be tlJey ever so nUlnerous or serious, have no
force whatever to prohibit the act itself. \Ve arp aCCUS-
tomed in such cases, to appeal to the maxitn, "U SU111
non tollit abusus ;" and it is plain that., if what Inay be
called functional disarrangements of the intpllect are to
be considered fatal to the recognition of the functions
themselves, then the mind has no laws whatever and no
normal constitution. I just now spoke of the growth

lUlieftctibility of CertItude.

".,.,
-,,

of knowledge; there is also a growth in the nse oftho
c
faculties by which knowledge i
acquired. 'fhe intellect

Hl111its of
ln education; man is a being of progress; be
Imc:; to learn how to fulfil his end, and to be ,,,hat fact:i
show that he is intended to be. His mind is ill the fir'st
instance in disorder, and runs wild; Lis faculties have
their rudimental and iuchoate sbtte, and are gradually
carried on by practice and experience to their perfec-
tion. No instances then whatever of mi
takell ccrti-
tu(h\ arc sufficient to constitute a proof, that certitude
itself is a perversion or extravagance of his nature.
'Ve do not dispense with clocks, because from tillle
to titHe they go wrong, and tell untruly. A clock, or-
ganically considered, may be perfect, yet it lllay require
regulating. Till that needful work is done, the
nloment-hand perhaps marks the half-nlinnte, when
the millute-hanJ is at the quarter-past, aud the hour
hanù is just at noon, and the quarter-bell strikes the
three-quarters, and the hour-bell strikes four, while
the sUll-dial precisely tells two o'clock. The sense of
certitude nlay be caned the bell of the intellect; and
tha.t it strikes when it should not is a proof that the
clock is out of order, no proof that the bell will be un-
trustworthy and useless, when it COlnes to u
aJjusted
and regulated frorn the hands of the clock-lllaker.
Our conscience too may be said to strike the hours,
and will strik(. them wrongly, unless it be duly regu-
lated for the pcrfornuulce of its proper function. It is
the loud announcement of th(\ princip1e of right ill the
details of conduct, as the sense of certitudt' is the clear
witne
s to what is true. Both certitude and conscience

234

CC1'tltllde.

have a place in the nornlal condition of the mind. As
a human being, I am unable, if I ,vere to try, to live
,vithout some kind of conscience; and I am as little
able to li\Te without those landmarks of thought which
certitude seC1ll'es for me; still, as the hallllner of a
clock lllay teU untruly, so lllay my conscience and my
sense of certitude ,be attached to mental acts, ,vhether
of consent or of assent, \vhich have no clailn to bp thus
sanctioneù. Both the nloral anù the intellectual
sanction are liable to be biasset1 by personal inclina-
tions and 1l10tivcs; both require anù admit of disci-
pline; and, a"- it is no disproof of the authority of
conscience thnt false co})sciences abound, neither
does it destroy the iUlportance and the uses of certi-
tude, becau'So even educated minùs, who are ear:lest in
their inquirie
after the truth, in many cases remain
under the power of prejudice or delusion.
To this deficiency in mental training a wider error is
to be attributeù,-the mistaking for conviction and
certitude states and frames of mind which Inake no
pretence to the fundall1ent81 condition on ".hich con-
\.iction rests as distinct from assent. The multitude of
IHen confuse together the probable, the possible, and
the certain, and apply these terms to doctrines and
stateDlents alillost at random. They have no clear
view ,vhat it is they kno\v, what they presume, what
they suppose, and what they only assert. They lllake
little distinction between credence, opinion, and profes-
sion; at various times they give them all perhaps the
name of certitude, and according)y, ,vhen they change
their minds, tuey fancy they have given up points of

lú,/ifcctibility OJ" Certitude. 235

which they h:u1 :1 true conviction. Or at least by-
standers thu
speak of then1, and the very idea of
certihlllc falls into lli....repute.
In thi:-; t1ay the subject-1natter of thought and belief
h:1:, so increaseL1 upon us, that a far higher 111ental for-
mation is requireJ than wa
neces
ary in times pa
t,
and higher than ,vp have actually reached. The ,,-hole
world is brought to onr door8 every morning, ana our
jul1gnlent is required upon social concerns, books, per-

OIlS, parties, creeds, national acts, political principles
anJ measures. ,r e have to form our opinion, tnake
our profession, take our side on a hunùred matters on
which ,ye have but little right to speak at all. But we
do speak, anù lllust speak, upon thenl, though neither
we nor tho:5e .who hear us are ,veIl able to dcterrniup
wbat is the real position of our intPlIect relatively to
thos,
many que=,tiolls, one by one, on ,,-hich we cOlumit
ourselves; and then, since many of these questions
change their cOlnplexion ,yith the pas
ing hour, and
many require elaLorate consiLleration, and Inany are
sÍ1nply beyond us, it is not ,vonderful, if, at the end of
a few years, we have to revise or to repudiate our con-
elusions; and then we shall be unfairly
aid to bave
changeJ our certitudes, and shall confirm the doctrine,
that, except in abstract truth, no judgnlent. rises higher
than probahility.

uch are the mistakes about certitlltlc among edu-
cated men; and after referring to then1, it i
scarcely
worth while to dwell upon the absurdities and excesses
of the ruùe intellect, as seen in the world at large; as
if anyone could dream of treating as deliberate as:5ents.

236

Certitude.

as assents upon assents, as convictiong or certitudes,
th
prejudices, credulities, infatuations, superstitions,
fanaticislllS, the ",hill1S and fancies, the sudden irre-
vocable plunges into the unknown, the obstinate deter-
IDinatiuns,-the olfspring, as they are, of ignorance,
'.1 y ilfulness, cupidity, and pride,-which go so far to
luake up the history of rnankind j yet these are often
,
t)et down as instances of certitude and of, its failure.

4.

I have spoken of certitude as being assigned a definite
and fixed place aillong our nlental acts; it follows upon
exalnination and proof, as the bell sounds the hour,
when the hands reach it,-so that no act or state of
the intellect is certitude, however it 111ay re
emble it,
'which does not obser\.e this appointed law. This pro-
viso greatly dilniuishes the catalogue of g011uine cel"-
titl1de
. Another restriction is this :-th0 occasions
or subject-lllattel'S of certituòe are undt'l' law also.
}Juttillg aside the dai1y exercise of the 8ense
, the
principal subjects in
ecular kno,vledge, about which
,ve can be certain, are tbe truths or facts 'v hich are its
basis. ...
s to this world, we are certain of the elelnents
of kno"\\ledge, whether general, scientific, historical, or
such as bear on our daiJy needs anù habit
, and relate
to ourselves, our homes and families
our friends,
neighbourhood, country, and civil state. Beyond these
eleruentary points of knowledge, lies a vast. subject-
matter of opinion, credence, and belief, viz. the field
of public affairs, of ::,ocial and professional life, of
Lusine8s, of duty, of literature, of taste, nay, of the

Iu({cj"cctióilit), of Certltude.

"1 7
"oJ

expprimpntal sciencp'ì. Ou subject
such as these the
rl'a.:-'onings aud conclusiuns of nld,nkind vary,-" rnUll-
durn traLlidit disputat.ioni eorun1 j"-and prudent tnen
in consequence selùorli speak confiùently, unless they
are warranted to do so by genius, great experience, or
sonle special qualification. They deterluine their
judgtnents by what is probable, what is safl), what
pro'nisf's be
t, what has verisimilitude, ,vhat iUlpre:-iSes
find
wa'ys thprn. 'They neither can possesH, nor need
certitude, nor do they look out for it.
Hence it is that-the province of certitude being 80
contracted, and that of opinion so large-it is common
to call probability the guide of life. This saying, ,vhen
properly explained, is true; however, ,ve must llot
suffer ourselves to carry a true maxim to an extreme;
it is far from true, if we so hold it as to forget that
without :first principles there can be no conclusions at
aU, and that thus probability does in some sense pre-
suppose and require the existence of truths which are
certain. Especially is the maxitn untrue, ill respect to
the othel' great department of knowledge, the spiritual,.
if taken to support the doctrine, that the first principles
anù eleInents of religion, ,vhich are universally received,.
are nlere lllatter of opinion; though in this day, it is
too often taken for granted that religion is one of tuo
e

ubjects on ,vhieh truth cannot be discoverpd, and on
wlaich one conclusion is pretty mu
h on a ]evel with
another. But on the contrary, the initial truths ûf
ùivine knowledge ought to be vie,veù as parallel to the
initial truths of secular: as the latter are certain, so
tl)O are the former. 1 canllot indeed deny tb(tÌ a decent

23 8

Cel Illude.

reverence for the Suprcme Being, an acquiescence in the
claims of Revelation, a general profession of Christian
doctrine, and SOlne sort of attendnnce on sacred ordi-
nances, is in fact all the religion that is usual with even
the better ::)ort of nleD, and that for an this a sufficient
ba
is may certainly be found in proùabilities; but if
religion is to be qcvotion, and not a mere nlatter of
sentitnent, if it is to be maLìe the ruling principle of
our lives, if our actions, one by one, ana our daily con-
duct, are to bo consistently directed towards an Invis-
iùle Being, "
e need something higher than a mere
balance of argulnents to fix and to control our luinùs.
Sacrifice of wealth, name, or position, faith anù hope,
self-conquest, COlll1l111uion with the spiritual ,vorld, pre-
snppose a real hold and habitual intuition of the objects
of Revelation, ,vhich is certitude under another nall1e.
'1"0 this issue indeed wo Inay bring the main differ-
ence, viewed philo::;ophical1y, bebvf\en nominal Chris-
tianity on the one Iland, anù vital Christianity on the
other. Rational, scnsible men, as they consiòer tl1eln-
selves, Inell who do not co!nprehend the very notion
of loving God above all things, are content with such
a nlea
l1re of probability for the truths of religion, as
serves theln in their secular transactions; but those
who are deliberately sta.king their all upon the hopes
of the next world, think it reasonable, dnd find it
nccessary, before starting on their ne\v course, to have
some points, clear and iU11nutable, to start froln j
ot her,vise, they ,vill not start at all. rfhey ask, as a
pre1ilTIinary condition, to have the ground sure under
their feet; they look for more than h Ulllall reasonings

Illdljlxtibilil)' of Certilul{C. ..!39

nnd inferences, for nothing less than the "strong
consolation," as tho Apostle speaks, of those "im-
nlutable things in which it is impossible for God to
lie," IIis counsel and Iris oath. Christian earnestness
llH1V be ruled by the ,vorld to be a perverseness or a.
dcl11
ion; but, as long as it eÀists, it will pre
upposé
certitude as the very life which is to animate it.
This is the true parallel betw'een hunlan and divine
knowledge; each of them opens into a large fielù of
Inere opinion, but in both the one and the other tho
primary principles, the general, fundalneutal, carùinal
truths are iml11utable. In human matters we are
guided by probabilities, but, I repeat, they are proba-
bilities founded on certainties. It is on no probability
that ,ve are constantly receiving the informations and
dictates of sense and memory, of our intellectual in-

tillcts, of the moral sense, and of the logical faculty.
J t is on no probability that ,ye receive the general.
izations of science, and the great outlines of history.
'rhese are certain truths; and from them each of us
forms his o,vn judgments and directs his own cour
e!
according to the probabilities ",-hich they suggest to
11im, as the navigator applies his observations and his
charts for the deterlninatioll of his cour
e. Such is
the nlain view to be taken of the separate provinces of
probability and certainty in nlatters of this ,vorld; and
so, as regards the world invisible and future, ,ye have
a direct and conscious know ledge of our
Iaker, IIis
attributes, His providenccs, acts, "orks, and win, from
I!:tture, and revelation; and, beyond this knowledge lies
the large domain of theology, Illetaphy
ics, and ethicf-,

240

Ccrtitzulc.

on which it is not allo,ved to us to aùvance beyond
probabilities, or to attain to nlore tLan an opinion.
Such Oil the ,vhole is the analogy between our
knowledge of matters of this world and matters of the
,vorltl U11seen ;-inJefectilJle certitude in prilnary truths,
1nanifold variations of opinion in their application and
disposition.

5.

I ]mve
aid that Certitude, whether in hU1nan Or
divine knowle<1ge, is attfiina hie as regarùs general and
cardinal truths; and that in neither departlnent of
knowledge, on the whole, is certitude discreùited, lost,
or rever::,ed: for, in matter of fact, whether in 11u111an
or di\?ine, those prin1ary truths have ever kept t11eir
place from the time when they first took possession of
it. However, there is one obvious objection which
tnay be made to this representation, and I proceed to
take notice of it.
It may be urged then, that time was when the
primary truths of science 'were unknown, and when in
consequence ,.arious theories were held, contrary to each
other. The first element. of a11 things was said to be
\vater, to be air, to be fire; the framework of the
universe was eternal; or it ,vas the ever-new combina-
tion of innumerablc atoms: the planets were fixed in
solid crystal revolving spheres; or they moved round
the earth in epicycles mounted upon circular orbits;
or they \vere carried ,vhirling round about the sun,
while the sun was ,vhirling round t.he earth. About
such doctrines there was no certitude, no Inore than
there is now certitude about the origin of languages".

IJldifcctzbilit)! of Certitzu{c. 241

the age of loan, or the evolution of species, consiùered
us philosophical q llestions. Now theology is at present
in the yery
an}o state in w"hich natural science was five
hundred years ago; nnd thi8 is tbe proof of it,-that,
in
tead of there being one received theological science in
the worlù, there are a multitude of hypotheses. 'Ye
]Ja\.e a professed science of Atheism, another of Deism, a
l-'allthei
tic, ever so n1any Christian theologies, to
ay
nothingof .J uc1aism, Islalnislu, and the Orien tal religious.
Each of these creeds has its own upholders, and these
uphoIl1ers all certain that it is the very and the only
truth, and these same upholders, it maJ" happen, pre-
sently giving it up, and then taking up some other
creed, and being certain again, as they profe
s, that it
and it only is tbe truth, these various so.called truths
being incompatible ,,'ith each other. Are not Jews
certain about their interpretation of their la\v? yet tLey
become Christains: are not Catholics certain about the
npw law? yeti they bccolne Prote:;tants. At pl'c:o-cut
then, and as yet, there is no clear certainty anywhpre
abou t religious truth a" all; it has still to be d i
covered ;
anti therefore for Catholics to c1aÍln the right to lay
down the fir;o;t principles of theological science in their
own way, is to aSSUlne the yery matter in dispute.
Fir
t let their doctt.incs be uniyersal1y received, allù
tlll'n they will have a right to place thelll on a level
with the certflillty '" hich bt.longs to tbe laws of moticn
or of retraction. This is the objection which I propobc
to consider.

ow fir
t as to the ,,,"ant of universal recpption which
is urged agaln
t the Catholic dognlas, this part of the
p.

24 2

Certitude.

oLjection 'will not require many ".ords. Surely a truth
or a fact may be certain, though it i
not geuerally
received ;-\\'e are each of us ever gaining through our
sen
es various certainties, ,vhich no one shares \vith us ;
again, the certailltie
of the sciences are in the possession
of a. few countries only, and for the 1110St part only of
the educateJ classes in thosp countries; yet the philo-
sophers of Europe and America ,vould feel certain that
the earth rolll.d round the sun, in spite of the Indian
bl'1ipf of its being
uprorted by an elephant with a tor-
toi
t' under it. 'fhe Catholic Church then, though not
universally acknowledged, may ,vithout inconsistency
claitn to teach the pril11ary truths of religion, just as
lllodern sciencè, though but partially received, claims to
teach the great principles and laws which are the foun-
dation of secular knowledge, and that ,vith a significance
to which no other religious s}'stenl can pretend, because
it is its very profession to speak to all mankind, and its
very Ladge to be ever nlaking con\Terts all over the
earth, wherea
other religions are Inore or le:-:s variable
in their teaching, tolerant of each other, ana local, and
professedly local, in tlleir hnlJitaf ana character.
This, llowever, is not the Blain point of the objection;
tho n.'a 1 difficulty lies not ill the yariety of religions,
but in the contradiction, conflict, and change of reli-
gious certitudes. Truth neeJ not be universal, but it
111Ust of nece

ity be certain j and certainty, in order
to be certainty, nlu
t endure; yet how is this reaSOll-
able expectation fulfilled in t110 case of religion? On
the contrary, those who have been the most certain in
their beliefs are sometimes îound to lose them, Catholics

IlldLfcctibility of Certztude. 243

a
\\ pH a.S others; and then to take up new bclicfs,
perhaps contrary ones, of which they become a
certain
rl
if they had ncver been certain of the old.
In answering this representatiou, I begin with recur.
ring to the remark which I bave already nmde, that
a:-;
t'llt and certitude have reference to propo
itions, one
by one. \Ye may of course assent to a nUlnber of pro-
positions aU together, that is, 've may make a number
of assents all at once; but in doing so we run the risk
of putting upon one level, and treating as if of the
allle
value, acts of the l11ind which are very diflerellt Ironl
each other in character and circunlstance. ....\.11 a
sen t,
inth-cd, i
ever an assent; but given assents may be
strong 01' weak, deliberate or impulsive, lasting or
ephemeral. X ow a religion is not a proposition, but. a
system; it is a rite, a creeJ, a philo
ophy, a rule of duty,
aU at once; and to accept a religion is neither a f'ilnple
n
:,ellt to it nor a complex, neither a conviction Lor
a prejuàice, neither a notional assent nor a real, not
a. mere a.ct of prof8ssion, nor of creJence, nor of opinion,
nor of speculation, but it is a collection of all thc:,c
various kind::; of assents, at once autI together,
onle of
olle de:-:cl'iption, SOlne of another; but, out of all these
different assents, how IHallY are of that kind which I
llavp caUed certitude? Certitudes indeed ùo not chang-e,
but who shall pretend that assents are indefectible?
For instance: the funùalnelltal dngllla of Protestant.
ism is the exclusi\
e authority of Holy Scripture; but
in holding this a Protestant holds a host of proposi tiOll
J
explicitly or in1plicitly, anù holds them with as
ent

of various character. Among these propu
i tions, he
R

244

Lèrtitzttte.

holds that Scripture is the Divine Revelation itself,
that it is inspired, that nothing is known in doctrine
but ,,,,hat is there, that the Church has no authority in
matter
of doctrine, that, as clain1ing it, it cont1elnned
long ago in the .A.poca1ypse, that St. John wrote the
Apocalypsp, that justification is by faith only, that our
Lorù is God, that. there are seventy-two generations
between ...<\ (la111 and our Lord. K ow of which, out of
all the
û propositions, is he certain? and to ho,v H1any
of them is his assent of one and the san1e descript.ion ?
IIi8 belief, that
cripture is COlnn1cnsurate TIith the
Divine Revelation, is perhaps implicit, not conscious j
as to inspiration, he ùops not well know what the word
meanb, and his a
scnt is scarcely n10re than a profes-
sion; that no doctrine is true but what can be pl'oved
from Scripture he understands, and his assent to it is
,,-hat I have called speculative; that the Church has
no authority he holds with a real assent or belief j that
the Church is condemned in the _\pocalypse is a stand-
ing prejudice j that St. John wrote the Apocalypse is
his opinion; that justification is by faith only, he
accepts, but scarcely can be said to apprehend; that
our Lord is God perhaps he is certain; that there are
seventy-two generations between

<1am ana Christ he
accepts on credence. 1 et, if he were asked. the ques-
tion, he ,vould most probably answer that he ,vas
certain of the truth of "Protestantism," though
" Prote
tantisnl" means these things and a hundred
more all at once, and though he believes ,vith actual
certitude only one of them all,-that indeed a dognla,
of most sacred importance, but not the discovery of

Illlltjcctibility of Ccrtitude. 245

I
nthcr or Calvin. lIe would think it enough to say
that ho ',a
a foe to" RÚIllanisll1 " and" Sociniallislll, "
and to avow that he gloried in the Reformation. lIe
looks upon each of these religious professions, Protes-
tantisln, Homa-nisln, Sociniani
m and Thpism, merely
n
units, as if they ,vera not each maùe up of many
clelnents, as if they had nothing in COlnnlon, as if a
transition froln the one to the other involv'ed a sirnple
obliteration of all that had been as yet written on hIs
mind, and would be the reception of a new faith.
'Vhen, then, we are told that a man has changed fl'OUI
one religioll to another, the first question which ,,'e
have to ask, is, have the first and tbe second religions
nothing in c01ulion? If they have common doctrines,
he has changed only a portion of his cr
ed, not tbe
whole: and the next question is, has he ever tnade much
of any doctrines but such as are if otherwise C01nlllon
to his new creed and his old ? what doctrin(-'s was be
certaiu of among the old, and what among the new?
rrhns, of three Protestants, one becomes a Catholic, a,
s
cond a Unitarian, and a third an unbeliever: how is
this? The first becomes a Catholic, because he a
sented,
as a Prote
tant, to the doctl'ine of our Lord's divinity,
with a real assent and a genuine conviction, and becau5e
thIs certitude, taking po

ession of his nlÌnd, led biln on
to w61c nne the Catholic doctrines of the l{eal Prp:-:cnce
and of the Theotoco
, till his Protestantislu fell off from
him, and he suLn1Îtted himself to the Chun:h. The
second becarne a U nitarian, becau
eJ proceerlillg on the
principle that ;Scripture "
as tbe rule of faith and that a
wan's private judgrllent was its rule of interpretation,

2-+6

Certitude.

and finding that the doctrine of the Nicene and Atbana-
sian Creeds did not follo,v by logical necessity froln the
text of Scripture, he said to hilnself, "The ,vord of (;ùcl
has beeu nlade of none effect by the traùitions of III en.,' ,
find therefol"p nothing wa
left for hitn but to profess
what he con
idered prilnitive Chri:,tiallity, and to be-
come a IIulnanital'ian. The third gradually subsided
into infidelity, because be started 'with the Protestant
dogma, cherished in tbe depths of his nature, that a
priesthood ,vas a corruption of the simplicity of the
G-ospe!. First, then, he would protest against the
sacrificp of tbp )Ia
s; next hp gave up baptismal re-
generation, and the sacra:nental principle; then he
asked himself whether dogmas ,vere not a restraint on
Christian liberty as well as sacraments; then came the
question, ,vhat after an ,vas the use of teachers of reli-
gion? why should anyone stand between him and his

lakcr? After a time it struck him, that this obvious
question had to be answered by the ApostJes, as well
as by the .L
nglican clergy; so he came to the couclu-
sion that the true and only l'evelation of God to man
is that wbich is ,vrittcn on the heart.
rhis did for a
time, and he renlained a Deist. But then it occurred
to him, that this iu,vard IHora1 la,v was there within
the br
ast, whether there was a God or not, and that
it was a roundabout ,vay of enforcing that law, to say
that it caIne from God, and simply unlleces::;ary, con-
sidering it carried wit}} it itH own sacred and
overeign
authority, as our feelings instinctively testified; and
when he turned to look at the physical world arollnd
bim, he really did not see what scientific proof there

Indefectibility of Ccrlltlu{e. 2-1-7

was there of the Being of God at all, anù it
secmel1 to him a.s if fill things would go ùn quite a

well as nt pre
ent, without that hypothesis a
with it;
so he dropped it, and Lecalue a purus, PUtU8 Athei
t.
Ko,v the ,vorId will say, that in these three ca
es old
certitudes WÜl'e lost, ana new ,vere gained; but it i

not so: each of tlH
three luen started with just one
certitude, liS he would bave himself professeù, had be
exau1Ïned hiu1self narrowly; and he carri.ed it out and
carried it with him into:1 new system of belief. H..
was true to that one conviction froln first to last; and
OIl looking hack on t}]f1 past, would perhaps insist upon
thi::;, and
ay he had really beon consistent all through,
when others Illade much of his great changes in reli-
gious opinion. He ha.s indeed IU:l1tle serious additions
to his illiti.tl ruling principle, but he Las lost no con-
viction of which he was originally pos
e
sed.
I will take' Olle l110re instance. .Ll man is convertpd
to the Catholic Church froin his adrniration of its reli-
gious system, and his disgust with Protestanti
Ill. That
admiration rClnains; but, after a titue, he leaves his
new faith, perhaps returns to his old. The rea
OIl, if
we may conjecture, IlJay sOlletilnc
he this: he ha

neVl'r bC'li('\"('d in th(' Church's infallibility; in her duc-
trinal truth he ha
believeJ, but in her infallibilitv, no.
lIe Wa
a
ked, lJcfore he wa
re f ;eiyofl, whether he held
all that the Chnrch taught, he replied he did; but he
under
tuod the question to Inean, whether he hela those
particular doctrines" which at tha.t titHe the Church in
Inattel" of fact fonually taught," whereas it rea.lly meant
"whatever the Church then 01' at any future time

24 8

Ct:rtitude.

should teach." Thus, he never had the indispensable
and elerncntary faith of a Catholic, and ,vas simply no
suùject for reception into the fold of the Church. This
being the ca
e, when the Imnl
culate Conception is
defined, he feels that it is sOlnething 11101'0 than he
IJ[lrgained for ,,,hen he became a Catholic, ana accord-
ingly he gives up his religious profession. The world
.
will say that he lIas lost hi
certitude of the divinity
of tho Catholic Faith, 'Lut he never had it.
Thl' first point to bp a
certainelI, then, ,vhen we hear
of a change of religious certitude in another, is, ,,'hat
the doctrines are on which his so-called certitude
before no'v find at present has respectively fallen. All
doctrines ùc....idcs these \\'ere the accidents of his pro-
fl}S
ion, and the indefectibility of certitude 'would not
be disproycd, though he changcd thcm every year.
rrhere are fc,v religions which have no point
in COH1-
luon; and the
e, whether true or false, 'when en1braced
with an ab
oll1te conviction, are the pivots on whieh
changes take place in that collection of credences,
opinions, prejudices, and other assents, ,,,!lich make up
,,'hat is called a nlan's selection anù adoption of a forn1
of rpligion, a denoTI1ination, or a Church. There have
been Protestants whose idea of enlightened Christianity
Las been a strenuous antagonisln to what they consider
the unmanliness and unreasonableness of Catholic
morality, an antipathy to the precepts of patience,
Ineekness, forgiveness of injuries, and chastity. All
this they have considered a woman's religion, the
ornam ent. of monks, of the sick, the feeble, and the old.
Lust. revenge, amoition, courage, pride, these, they

IJldl'fi:rt/bility of Ct'rlitz.:de. 249

bave fnTIcicù, made the lnan, ana want of tl1ClH tho
sla\ c. 1\ 0 one could fairly accuse such Inen uf f.lny
gn'at change of their convictions, or refer to theln in
proof of the defectibility of certitude, if they were one
òa ,. found to ha\Te taken up the profession of I
hlln.
..And if this intel'commuuiul ,f religions holùs good,
even when the conlUlon points :"\etweell them are but
erl'OrR held in conlnlon, luuch more natural ,viII be the
trall
ition fronl one religion to another, ,vithout injury
to cxi:-;til1g certitudes, when the common points, the
uLjccts of those certitudes, arc truths; and still stronger
in that case and lllore constraining will be the sYlllpatb)",
,vith which lllinds that love truth, even ,,,hen they have
surl'olllHled it with error, ,viII yearn towards the
Catholic faith, which contains \vithin itself, aud clainls
a.-.. its own, all truth that is el:::;ewhere to be found, and
more tban an, and nothing but truth. This is the
secret of the influence, by
\'hich tbe Church draws to
her::5elf couvert::; frolll such variou
and conflicting re-
ligions. rfhey COllie, not so much to lose what they have,
a
to gain ,vhat they have not; aud in order that, by
nleans of wllat they have, lllore Inay be given to then!.
bt. .A.ugustine te1l8 us that there is no false te.,ching
without an intern1Íxture of truth; and it is by the light
of those particular truths, contained respectively in the
various religion8 of lnen, anù ùy our certitudes about
thPIU, which art' po

ihle whel"evf'l" thO:"L t
uths are found,
that wp pick our way, slowly perhaps, Lut sUl'cly, into
thp One Ite]igion which God ha
given, taking our certi-
tuc1es with us,nott010se, but to keepthcln Inorp securely,
aud to understand and love their objects tl10rp perfectly.

25 0

Certitude.

Not eyen are idolaters and heathen out of the ranO'f}
n
of sOlne of the
c religious truths and their correlative
ce(.tituùes. The 01L1 Greek and l
oman polytheists had,
a
they sho\v in t heir literature, clear and strong notions,
nay, vivid 1l1eutal im
lges, of a Particular Providence, of
tho }1nwer of prayer, of the rule of Oi ville Governance,
of the law of conscience, of sin find guilt, of expiation
.
by I))O:1n:::; of
acrifices, anù of fll ture retribution: I will
e\70n add, of the Unity and Por::;ollali ty of the
uprelne
Being. This it is that throws such a magnificent light
over the llolllcric poems, the tragic choruses, and the
Odes of Pinùar; and it has its counterpart in the
philo::;ophy of Socrates and of the Stoics, anll in such
hi::;torians as IIerodotus. It ''''ould be out of place to
speak coufidputlyof a state of
ociety which has pa

ed
a\vay, but at first sight it does 1lot appeal' ,vhy the
truths \vhich I have enunlerateù should not have re-
ceivEd as genuine and deliberate an asspnt on the part
of Socrates or Clanthes, (of cour::;e with divine ail1s,
out they do not enter into thi
discu
::;ion), as was
given to theln by St. John or St. Paul, nay, an assent
which rose to certitude. l\Iuch more :safely lnay it
be pronounced of a
rahometan, that he nlay have a
certitude of the Di vine Unity, as ,veIl as a CIlJ.istian;
and of a Jew, that he Inay believe as truly as a Christian
in the resurrection of the body; and of a Unitarian
that he can give a delibprate and rèal assent to the !act
of a suppl'natural rcyelation, to the CIll'istian miracles,
to the eternal 1110raJ law, and to the immortality of the
soul. .....\.nd so, again, a Protestant n1ay, not only in
worù
, but in mind and heart, hold, as if he were a

fJl{{t.fi:ctibilz'ty of Ccrtitlule. 251

Catholic, with silnplc certitude, the ùoctrines of the
lIoly Trinity, of the fall of n1an, of the necù of re-
g(lnCl'atioll, of the efficacy of Divine Gracp, ana of the
pos
ibility aHd danger of fa]]ing away. And thu
it is
conceivable tbat a man might travel in his religious
profe
sion all the way frol}} heathenisln to Catholicity,
through 1Iahometanism, J uaaism, U nitarianisln, .Pro-
tt-'stallti:Sll1, and Anglicanisll1, ".ithout anyone certitu(le
lost, but with a continual accu1l1ulation of truths, which
c1aiu1eù fron1 hitn and elicited in his intellcct frc:sh and
fresh certitudes.
In saying all this, I do not forget that the salno
doctrines, as held in differeut religiol1g, may be and
often are held very di:t1erently, as belonging to distinct
whole::; or forms, as they are calle<1, and expost'd to the
influence anù the bia:s of the teaching, pt 1 rhaps false,
with which they are a

ociated. Thu
, for instance,
whatever be the resenl blallce bptween bt.
\.ugl1stine's
doctrine of Predestination and the tenet of Calvin
upon it, the two really differ frOin each other toto cælo
in
igu.ificance and effect, in consequence of the place
they hold in tbe systclns ill ,vhich they are re
pectively
incorporated, just as shade
and tints sho" so differ..
ently in a painting according to the Ina

es of colour
to which they are attached. But, in spite of thi
, a
Ulan Inay so hold the doctrine of personal election as
n Calvinist, as to be able :still to hoJJ it as a Catholic.
IIowever, I have been speaking of certituùe:, which
retnain unirupaired, or rather confirn1ed, bJ' a change of
religion; on the contrary there are others, whether we
C'l1l thelu certitudes or convictions, ,,,hich perish in the

25 2

Certitzule.

change, as St. Paul's conviction of the sufficiency of
the J cwish L:nv came to an end on his becoming

Christian. K o'v how is such a series of factc:; to be re-
conciled with the doctrine \vhich I have been enfol
ci nO" ?
'=>
'VLati conviction could be stronger than the faith of
the J e\Vs in the perpetuity of the
rosaic system?
Those, then, it may be said, \vho n ùandoned J udaisnl
.
for the Gospel, surely, in so doing, bOl
e the Inost em-
phatic of testimonies to the defcctibility of certitude.
And, in like manner, a lrahometall Inay be so deeply
convinced that 1Iahomet is the prophet of God, that it
would be only by a qlli1ble about the meaning of the
'word" certituùe" that we could Inalntaill, that, on his
hecolning a Catholic, he ùill not unequivocally prove
that certitu<1e is defectible. .And it 111a.y be argued,
pcrhaps, in the case ()f 80111(\ IncIuber8 of the Church
of Englaud, that their faith in the \-alidityof Anglican
orders, and the invisibility of the Church's unity, is so
absulute, so deliberate, that their aballdonn1ent of it,
did they be<,;olne Catholic
or sceptics, ,vouid be tanta-
Inount to the abant10nrnellt of a certituùe.
KO\\T, in Ineeting this difficulty, I will not urge (lest
I should be accused of quibbling), that certitude is a
conviction of what is true, and that these so-called cer-
titudes have corne to nought, because, their objects being
error5, not truths, they really 'vel'e not certitudes at all;
nor ,vill I ill
i
t, as I lllight, that they ought to be
proved first to be something more than mere prejudices,
assents without rea
nn and judgment, before they can
fairly be taken as instances uf the defectibility of
certitude; but I silllply ask, as rega.rds the zeal of the

/1ldcftctibilil)' of C ertit lute. 253

Jews for thp sufficiency of their law, (even though it
implied genuine certitude, not a prejudice, not a mere
conviction,) still was such zeal, such professed certitude,
found in those who wero eventually convertl'ù, or in
those who \vere not; for, if those who had not that
certitude becanl
Christians and those "rho had it
rCJnnined Jews, then loss of certitude in the latter is
not instanced in the fact of the conversion of the former.
8t. Paul certainly is an exception, but his conversion,
as :11:50 his after-life, was Iniraculou
; ordinarily speak-
ing, it was not tbe zealots who supplied Inen1b01'8 to
the Cat1Jolic Church, but those" men of good will,')
who, instpad of considering the Jaw as perfect and
etprnaI, ct looked for the reden1ption of Israel," and for
"the knowledge of salvation in the remission of sins.J>
And, in like nlanner, as to those learned and devout
tHell among the
\Jlglicnns at the present day, who
COlüe So near the Church without acknowledging her
clailns, I ask ,vhether there are not two classes among
the111 also,-those ,vho are looking' out beyond their
uwn body for the perfect way, and those on the other
hand who teach that tbe Anglican connnunion is the
golùen Inean between men who believe too Inuch and
nlen who believe too little, the centre of unity to
which East and \Yest are destined to gravitate, the
in
trull1ent and the mould, as tbe Jews might think of
their OWll InoriLund institutions, through \vhich the
king-dolu of Christ i
to be established all over the
eartb. _\.nd next 1 \Vould ask, which of these two
c1as
es supplies converts to the Church; for if they
Come froln among those who never pl'ofe::;sed to be

254

Certitude.

quitp certain of t!-:e special strength of the Anglic'ln
position, such nlen cannot be quoted as instances of the
defectibility of certitude.
There is indeed another class of beliefs, of which I
nlust take notice, the failure of ",'hich lnay be taken at
first
ight a<; a proof that certituJe lIlay be lost. Yet
they clear]y desel"ve no other nalne than prej udices-, as
being founded upon reports of facts, or 011 argurnents,
w hich ,,
ill not bear careful exarnination. Such ,vas the
disgust felt to,varJs our predecessors in prilnitive tit11es,
the Christians of the first centuries-, as a secret society,
a
a cou:--piracy ag
inst the civil power, as a set of
lnean, sordid, despicable fanatics, as lllonsters revelling
in blood and impurity. Such also is the ùeep prejudice
1l0"
existing against the Church anlong Protc
tallts,
w ho drcs
her up in the lnost hideous and loath:501ne
images, which rightly attach, in the prophetic aescrip-
tions, to the evil spirit-, hi8 agents and instruInellts.
And so of the nUlnberl('
s calulnnips directed against
individual Catholics, against our religiou
bodies and
lllen in authority, ,vhich sel."\TC to feed anù sustain tbe
su
picion and dil-;like with ,vhieh everything Catholic is
regarded in this country. But as
L persistence in such
prejudices is 110 eyidence of their truth,
o an abandon-
lucnt of thern is no evidence that certitude can fail.
There is yet another clas
of prejuJices against the
Catholic Religion, which is far more tolerable and
intelligible than those on which I have been dwelling,
but still in no sense certitudes. Indeed, I doubt
\V hether they would be consiùered more than presnmp-
tive opinions by the persons who elltertaiu them Such

ludt:jt:ctibzlit), of Certitude. 25S

i!i tho idea \vhich has posse
scù certain pbilosnphers,
nncient and modern, that miracles are an infringement
and disfigureluent of the l>cautiful orùer of nature.

uch, too, is the per
nasion, COllllllon fLl1l0ng lJolitical
and literary Inen, that the Catholic Church is inconsi
-
tent wit h tlH
trtH' interests of the huuw,l1 race, ,vith

ocial progre
s, with rational freeùom, ".ith good
go\yernmellt. ....\.. renunciation of these in1agillations is
not a change in certitudes.
So much on this subject. All concrete laws arcl
gl'nel'al, and per
on
, as such, do not fall under laws.

tin, I have gone a good way, as I think, to l'elnove
the objections to the doctrine of the indefectibility of
certitude in matters of religon, though I cannot
assign to it an infallible token.

6.
One further remark Inay be luaùe. Certitude does
not admit of an interior, ilumediate test, sufficient to
di
criminate it fl'onl false certitude. Such a test is
rendered iInpos
ible from the circumstance that, ,vhen
WP make the mental act expressed by " I know," \\'0
StUll up the whole scrie
of reflex jUdg1llCllt
which
Inight, each in turn, successively exel"cise a critical
function towards those of the series which precede it.
But still, if it is the general rule that certitude is
indefectible, willllot that indefectibilIty it,;elf becolnc
at least iu the event a criterion of the genuineness of
the certitude? or is there any rival state or habit of
the' intellect, which c1ailns to be indefectible also? A
few words will suffice to answer the
e que::;tions.

25 6

Certitude.

Premising that all rules are but general, especially
tho
e ,vhich re]ate to the mind, I observe that inde-
fectibility Inay at least serve as a negative test of
certituùe, or sine 'lltâ non condition, so that whoever
loses his conviction on a gi\ren point is thereby proved
not to have been certain of it. Certitude ought to stand
all trials, or it i, not certitude. Its very office is to
cherish anJ maintain its object, nnd its very lot and
duty is to sustain 1'uJe shocks in 11lailltenance of it
,vithout bciug JaulageJ by t1l0111.
1 will take an ex:nnple. Let us suppose ,ve are tola
on an uninlpeachable authority, that a 1nan whom wo
sa,v die is llOW alive again and at his ,vork, a
it was his
wont to be; let us suppose ,ve actually see hinl and
converse ,,-ith him; what will become of our certitude
of his death? I do not think ,YO should give it up; how
coulù we, when ,ve actually saw him (lie? At fÌ!'st,
indeed, ,YO should be thrown into an astonishment and
confu
ion so great, that the ,vodd would seelll to reel
round us, and ,ve should be ready to give up the use of
our senses and of our memory, of our reflective po\vers,
and of our reason, and even to deny our power of
thinking, and our existence itself. Such confidence have
we in the doctrine that w hpn life goes it never returns.
K or would our bewilderlnent be less, when the first
blow ,vas over; but our reason would rally, and with our
reason our certitut1e would COine back to us. "\YLat-
ever carne of it, "e should never cease to know and to
confe:5s to our
elves both of the contrary facts, tbat we
sa'v hin) die, and that after dying we saw him alive
again. 'fhp overpowering stril ngeness of our ex-

iI/tIt) l{;ctibilllY oj Ccr/ítzuíe.

"')"' 7
...,:,

peripnce ","oula have no power to shake our certituùo
in the facts which crea.ted it.
,,--\.gain, let us suppose, for argument's sake, that
ethnologists, philologists, anatornists, and antiquarians
agreed together in separate demonstrations that thoro
wpre half a. dozen racps of mon, and that they were aU
descended trOIn gorillas, or chimpanzees, or ourang-
uutaIlg
, or baboons; moreover, that
\Jam ""as an
historical personage, with a well-ascertained dwelling-
place, surroundings and date, in a comparatively
modern ,vorld. Ou the other hand, let lne beìieve
that the 'V ord of God Hilnsclf distinctly dt'clares that
there were no lTIen before Adam, that he ,vas imlneJi-
ate:y made out of the slilne of the earth, and that he is
the first father of allinen that are or ever have been.
IIm'e is a contradiction of statements more direct than
in the former instance; the two cannot stand together;
one or other of tlH
ln is untrUé. But whatever Ineans I
rnight be led to take, for making, if pos
ible, the an-
tagonism tolerable, I conceive I should never give up
IllY certitude in that truth which on sufficient ground$
I determined to come from he1.ven. If I so believed, I

hould not pretend to argue, or to defend tHyself to
others; I shuuld be patient; I should look for better
days; but I should still believe. If, indeed, I had
hitherto only half believed, if I bcJieved with an assent

hort of certitude, or with an acquib:-cence short of
a
::)ent, or hastily or on Eght grounds, then the case
wonld be nltert'd; Lut if, after full cor.sir1cration, and
availing ID)"sdf of Iny best light
, I did think tbat
Leyonù all question G-oc1 spoke as I thought lie did,
R

25 8

Certitzutc.

philosopher
ana experilnenta.lists might take their
course for 1ne,-1 should consider that they anJ I
thought and reasoncù in different nlediutns, and that
my certitude was h,S little in collision ,vith theln or
òaluaged by then1, as if they attempteJ to counteract
i11 some great matter chemical action by the force of
gravity, or to weigh mahJ"}letic influence against
capillary attraction. Of course, I an1 putting an
impossible case, for philosophical discoveries canllot
really contradict divine revelation.
So much on the indefectibility of certitude; as to
the question ,,,hether any other assent is indefectible
besides it, I think prejuùice may be such; but it
cannot be confused with certitude, for the one is an
assent previous to rational grounùs, and the other an
a
sellt given expressly after careful exarnina,tiou.
It See111S then that on the \V }1nle there are three
conòitions of certitude: that it fol1ows on in\fstiga-
tion and proof, that it is accorn ranied by a ðpecific
sense of intellectual satisfi1ctioll and repose, and that
it is irreversible. If the assent is made without
rational grounds, it is a rash judgment, a îancYJ or a
prejudice; if without the sense of finality, it is scarcely
more than an illfel'ence j if without perlllaueuce, it is
.a Inpre convictiu1.l.

CIIA.PTER YIlT.

I
FEn I
XCE.

]. FORJfAL INFERRXCE.

INFERENCE is the conditional acceptance ofa prop0sition,
,A
sent is the unconditional; the object of .!.ssent is a.
truth, the object of Inference is tbe truth-like or a
vCl'isinlilitude. The problem which I have nurlertakcn
is tbat of ascertaining ho,v it comes to pass tha.t a
conditional act leads to au unconditional; and, having
now sho,vn that a.ssent rpaHy is unconditional, I proceed
to Hhow ho,v inferential exerClse
, as such, always 11lUSt
he conditional.
'\-e re'l:-;01]. when we holù this bv virtue of that;
whcther WP hol<1 it as evident or as approÀinlating or
tending to be pvident, in either case we so hold it
becausl
of holding sOlnething else to be cviùent or
tending to be evident. In the next pJace, our rea
olling
ortlillarily pre
ents itself to our mind a!--. a sinlplc net,
not a rroce

or series of acts. \\r c appreheud tho
auteccdrnt aud then apprehend the consequent, withûut
s

260

.lnferCJlce.

explIcit recognition of thp nledium connecting the two,
as if by a sort of òircct association of the first thought
,,'ith the second. "r e proceed by H. sort of instinctive
perception, fronl premiss to conclusion. I call it in-
stinctive, not as if the faculty were one and the saIne
to a.ll IHen in strength and quality (as we generally
conceive of instinct), but because ordinarily, or a.t lea
t
often, it acts by a spontaneous ÏInpulse, as pl'ompt and
inevitable as the exercise of sense and memory. "r e
perceive external objects, and we remember past events,
without kno,ving ho,v ,ve do so; and in like manner we
reason without effort and intention, or any necessary
consciousness of the path which the Inind takes in
pa

ing from antecedent to conclusion.
Such is ratiocination, in what Dlay be called a state of
nature, as it is found in the uneducated,-nay, in all
llleu, in it
ordinary exercise; nor is there any antecedent
ground for deterrnining that it \viU not be as correct in
its informations as it iH instinctive, as trustworthy as are

en
ibh
perception and menlory, though its infornla-
tions arc not so imIHediate and have a wider range. By
Ineans of sense we gain kno\vledge directly; by means
of reasoning we gain it indirect]y, that is, by virtue of a
previous knowledge. And if we may justly regard the
uni\ erse, according tu the meaning of the \vord, as one
\vho]e J we may also believe justly that to know one part
of it is necessarily to know much more than that one
part. This thought leads us to a further view of
ratiocination. 1'he proverb says, " Ex pede Herculenl j"
and we have actual experience how the practised
zoologist can build up some intricate orgallization fron.

FOYIJ/ai 11
ftrc/lce.

2 ) I

t1)('1
ight of its
lnalll'st hone, ('voking the whole as if
It wer u. renlenlLrance; how, again, 't philosophical
antiquarian, by IUe
111c; of an inscription interprct
the
Inythical traditions of former ages, anll lliakes the p.a.st
livo j alld how a Coluill bus is led, from considerations
which arc COll11110n property, and fortuitous phenotncna
which ar

ucces
ively brought to his notice, to ha.ve
such faith in a western world, as willingly to cOlnmit
hilnself to the terror3 of a mysterious ocean in orùer
to arri\re at it. That ,vhich the mind is able thus
\ ariously to bring together into unity, must have some
real intrinsic connexion of part with part. But if thi

Sll"tma rerum is thus one whole, it must be constructed
on definite principles and la\vs, the knowledge of \vhich
\\ ill el1large our capacity of reasoning about it in par-
ticula.rs i-thus \'"0 are led on to aim at deterlnining on

L lar
e scale anù on system, what even gifted ur
pl'actised intellects aro only able by their own personal
,rig-our to reach piecetneal and fitfully, that is, at sub-

tituting scientific Illethods, such as all Inay use, for
thp action of ilH1ivit1ual genius.
There is another reason for atternpting to discover an
instrument of rea::,ùning (that is, of gaining new truths
by Illcaus of old), \vhich may be le
s vague and arbitrary
t ha n the talent and experience of the few or the
cOtnlllon-sen
D of the Inany. As meulory i
not always
accurate, and ha,:; un that account lel
to tho adopt ion
of writing, as 1cing u. meuioria lechn ica, unaffected Ly
th
failure of Inental ilnpre
siúns,-as our
en
e
at
tirne
decciyc u" and ha-ve to be corrected by
ach
other; so is it also ,vith Our J'eaSonlng faculty. rrLe

262

Ill!erc1lce.

conclusions of one man are not the conclusions of
another; those of the saU1e man do not always agree
together; those of ever so many who agJ"ee together
may differ from the facts themselves, which those con-
clusions are intended to ascertain. In consequence it
becomes a necessity, if it be possible, to analyze the
process of reasoning, and to invent a method which
Inay act as a con1mon rnea
ure between lnind and mind,
as a n1ean
of joint investigation, and as a recognized
intpl1ectual standard,-a standard such as to secure us
against hopeles
Inistakes, and to emancipate us frorn
thp capricious ipse di.rit of authority.
As the indox on the dialnote
do\vn the sun's cour
o
in the heavens, as a key, revolving' through the intri-
cate 'Yal'd
of the lock, opens for us a treasure-honse,
so let ns, if ,ve can, provide oUl'
elves ,,'ith SOlne ready
expeùient to serve as a true record of the systeln of
objectivp truth, anll an availablo rule for interpreting
its phenomena; or at least let us go as far a8 we can
in providing it. One such experinlental key is the
science of geometry, which, in a certain department of
nature, substitute:5 a collection of tf-ue principles, fruit-
ful and interminable in consequences, for the guesses,
pro re ?lfltc:î, of our intellect, and saves it both the
labour anù the risk of guessing. Another far more
subtle and effective instrumcnt is algebraical science,
,yhich acts as a spell in unlocking for us, without nlel'it
or effort of our o,vn individually, the arcana of the
concrete physical universe. ..A. Hlore an1bitious, because
a more comprehensive contrivance still, for interpreting
the concrete ,vor1d is the method of logical inference.

ForlJlal Infert'1lce.

" 6

- .)

\rhat we ùe
iùerate i

olnething which may supcrseJe
the nee<1 of personal gifts by a far-reaching and in-
iallible rule. K O\V, without external symbols to n1al'k
t.ut and to steady its course, the intellect runs wild;
llut with the aid of symbols, as in algebra, it advances.
with precisi9n and eLfect. Let then our symbols be
words: let all thought be arrested and enJ10died in
word
. Let language have a nlollopoly of thought;
and thought go for only so much as it can shuw' itself
to be \vorth in language. Let every prompting of the
intellect be ignored, every momentum of argument be
disowned, which is unprovided with an equivalent
worùin.g, as its ticket for sharing in the common search
after trhth. Let the authority of nature, COll1mon-

{'n
e, experience, genius, go for nothing. Ratiocina-
tion, thus restricted and put into grooves, is what I
have called Inference, and the science, which is its
regulating pril'-Ciple, is Logic.
rrhe first step in the inferential method is to thro\v
the q upstion to be ùecided into the form of a proposi-
tion; then to tLr0w the proof itself into proposition::;,
the force of the pr(\of lying in the cOlnparison of these
pl'opo
itions with e
ch other. 'Vhen the analysis is
carried out fully anù put iuto form, it becomes the
...
ristotelic syllogism. However, an inference need
not be pxpressed thus technically; an enthymPlne
fulfils the requil'cme'1ts of what I have called Inference.
So ùoes any other fot'm of w'ords with the Inere gl'anl-
l11atical pxpl'essions, "for," "therefore," "supposing,"
'c sO that," " sirnilarly:' aud the like. \' erbal reason-
il
g', of whatever kind, H'" upposed to mental, is wbat .1

26 4

11lfeJ eJlce.

mean by inference, which differs from logic only inas-
much as logic is its scientific for tn. .l\nd it will be
more convenient here to u!'e the two words indiscrin1-
inately, for I shall say nothing about logic which does
not in its substance also apply to inference.
Logical inference, then, being such, and its office such
a
I have described, the question follows, how far it
answers the purpose for which it is used. It proposes to
provide both a test and a common Ineasure of reason-
ing; and I think it will be found partly to succeeà
and partly t....> fail; succeeding so fill" as ,vords can in
fact be found for representing the countless varieties
find subtleties of hUJnan thought, failing on aCCO:1nt of
the fallacy of the original assumption, that whatever
can be thought call be adequately expressed ill ,vords.
In the first place, Inf
rence. being conditional, is
balnpered with other propositIons Le
ides that \yhich is
especially its own, that is, with the premisses as ,veIl as
the conclusion, and with the rules connf'Cting the latter
with the fornler, It views its own prop2r proposition in
the medium of prior propositions, and nleasures it by
theln. It does not hold a propositi(ìn for its O\Vl1 sake,
but as dependent upon others, and those others it
entertains for the sake of the conclusion. Thus it is
practically far more concerned with the comparison of
propositions, than ,vith the propositions therl1selves.
It is obliged to reg-ard all the propositions, with ,vhich
it has to do, not so much for their own sake, as for the
sake of each other, as regaròs th.3 identity or likeness,
independence or dissimilarity, ,v'hich has to be n1utually
predicated of then1. It follo\vs irom this, that the morl'

FùrJJlat I;?fC1'tllct-.

65

sinlple and definite are the words of a proposition, and
the narro" er their 111eauing, and the more that n1eaning
in each proposition is re
tricted to the relation which it
has to the words of the other propositions cOlnpared
\vith it,-in other word
, the nearer the propositions
concerned in the inference a.pproach to being mental
abstractions, and the less they have to do with the
concrete reality, and the more closely tbey are n1aùe to
express exact. intelligible, comprehensible, comm ulli-
cabJe notions, and the less they stand for objective
things, tbat is, the more they are the subjects, not of
real, but of notional apprehension,-so luuch tbe more
suitable do they beco1l1e for the purposes of Inference.
Hence it is that no process of argulnent is so perfect,
as tJlat which is conducted by means of symbols. In
.,.t\..ritbmetic 1 is 1, and just 1, and never anything else
but 1; it never is 2, it has no tendency to change its
meaning, anJ to become 2; it has no portion, quality,
admixture of 2 in its meaning. And 6 under all circulu-
stances is 3 times 2, and the sum uf 2 and 4; nor can
the whole world supply anything to throw doubt upon
tbese elementary positions. It is not so with ]anguagp.
Take, by cont.rast, the 'word (( inference," which I have
been usiug: it may stand for the act of inferring, as I
have used it ; or for the connecting principle, or inferen-
fia, between premisses and conclusions; or for the
conclusion itself. And sometimes it will bp difficult,
in a particular sentence, to say which it bears of these
three senses. And so again in .Á.\lgebra, a is never x, or
anything but a, wherever it is found; and fl, and bare
nlwaY8 standard quantities, to which x and yare always

,

266

Inference.

to bp referred, and by which they are always to he
Inea
ureJ. In Ge0J11etry again, the subjects of argu-
ment, points, lines, aud surfaces, are proci
e creations of
the luinù,
uggested indeeù by external objects, but
lueaning nothing but,vhat they are defined to mean: they
have no colour, no lllotion, no heat, no qualities ,vhich
address themselve
to tbe ear or to the palate; so that, in
whatever cOInbinations or relations the worùs denoting"
theln occur, anù to whomsoever they conle, those ,vords
novel' var)"" in their meaning, but are just of the SaUlE'
IHea
nre and weight at one tilHe anù at another.
"rbat is true of A.rithlnetic, A.lgebra, and Geometry,
is true also of .Aristotelic argulllontation in its typica1
Iuodes and :figures. It cOlnpares two given words sepa-
rately with a thirù, and then determines how they
stand to,vards each other, in a bonlî .fide idontity of
sense. In consequence, its formal process is best con-
ducted by nll'anS of sYlnbols, A. B, aud C. "\Vhile it
keep
to these, it is safe; it bas the cogency of rnathe-
Inatical rea
oning, and draws its conclusions by a rule
as unerring as it is blind.
Syulbolical notation, then, being the perfection of the
syllogistic luethod, it follo,vs tlH1t, ,vhen words are
sllh:-;tituted for sJlnbols, it ,vill be its ailll to circum-
scribe and stint their import as ll1uch as possible, lest
perchance .....t
hould not always exactly mean .....
, ànd n
mean B; and to Inake them, as much as possible, the
calculi of notions, which are in our absolute power, as
meaning just what ,ve choose them to Inean, and as
little as possible the tokens of real things, ,vhich are out-
siùe of us, and which mean ,va do not know how much,

ForJJlal Inferencc.

^ 6 -
- /

but so much certainly as, (in proportion as ,ve enter into
then],) may run away with us beyond the range of
scientific managelllcnt. The concrete matter of propo-
sitions is a constant source of trouble to syllogistic
rL
asollillg) as n1arring the
ilnplicity and perfection of
its proces
. "r ords, which denote things, have inllU-
lllcrable Ï1nplications; but in infcreutial exercises it is
the very triumph of that clearness and hardness of head"
w bich is the characteristic talent for tho art, to base
stripped them of all these connatural senses, to have
llraineJ. thenl of that depth and breadth of associations
,vhich constitute their poetry, their rhetoric, and their
hi:storical life, to have
tarveù each term ùown till it has
becorne the ghost of itself, and everywhere one anù the
same ghost, "omnibu
umbra locis," so that it lllay
stanù for just one unreal aspect of the concrete thing to
,vhich it properly belong
, for a relation. a generaliza-
tion, or othcl' abstraction, for a notion neatly turned out
of the laboratory of the mind, and sufficiently tame allù
subdued, because exi
ting only in a definition.
rrhus it is that the logician for his own purpose
,
and mo
t useful1y as far as those pnrpo
es are concerned,
turns rivers, full, winding, and beautiful, into navigable
canals. To hirH dog or horse is not a thing which he

ecs, but a 111ere lUlllH
suggesting ideas; and by dog 01"
bor
e univûl'sal he means, not the aggregate of all indi-
vidual dogs or horses brought together, but a common
aspect, meagre but precise, of all e::\.i
ting or possible
dogs or hor:3e
, which all the while does not really' corre-
spond to anyone single dog or horse out of the whole
aggl'egate. Such lllinute fidelity in the representatioll

268

Inference.

of individuals is neither necessary nor possible to hi3
art: his bu,:;iness is not to a
certain facts in the con-
crete, but to find and dress up n1iùdle terills; and,
provided they and the extremes which they go bet\veell
arE' not equivocal, either in them
èlves or in their use,
and he can enable his pupils to sho,v well in a vivá 'Voce
disputation, or in a po
ular harangue, or in a written
dissertation, be has achieved the main purpose of his
profession.
Such are the characteristics of reasoning, viewed as a
science or scientific art or inferential process, and we
might anticipate that, nalTO"
as by necessity is its field
of view, for that reason its pretensions to be demon-
strative were incontrovertible. In a certain sense they
really are so j while 've talk log-ie, we are unans\verable ;
but then, on the other hand, this univer::;al livillg scene
of things is after all as little a logical world hS it is a
poetical; and, as it cannot without violence be exalted
into poetical perfection, neither can it be atteuuated into
a logical formula. Abstract can only conduct to ab-

tract; but Wf\ have need to attain by our reasoning's to
what is concrete; and the margin between the abstract
conclusions of the science, and the concrete facts which
we wish to ascertain, will bf\ found to reduce the force
of the inferC'utial method from demoll
tration to the
mere determination of the probable. Thus, whereas (as
1 have already said) Infel g ence starts ,vith conditions,
a
starting ,vith premisses, here are t,yO reasons ,vhy,
when employed upon questions of fact, it call only con
elude probabilities: first, because its prerni::;ses art-'
assumed, not proved; and secondly, because its conclu-

/torJJla! Infercnce. 269

sions (H'P ah
tJ'act, anù not concrete. I will now cou-

iùer these two poiuts separately.

1.

Inference comes short of proof in concrete matt
r
,
because it ha
not a full comInand over the objects to
which it relates, but rnerely assumes its premis::5cs. In
order to complete the proof, ,ve are thrown upon SOUle
previous sy110gislll or syllogisms, in which the assu lnp-
tiOllS Inay be proved; and then, still farther b
lCk, we
are thrown upon others again, to prove the new as-
sUlnptions of that
econd order of syllogisms. 'V'here
is this process to stop? especially since it must run
upon
eparated, divergent, and multiplied lines of
arguillellt, the farther the investigation is carried
ba.ck. ..:\..t length a score of propositions present then1-
selves, all to be proved by propositions lllore eviden{j
than thernselves, in order to enable them respectively
to Lecotue premi
ses to that series of infel"ences which
terminates in the conclusion which we originally dre,v.
But even now' the difficulty is not at an end; it would
be something to arrive at length at premisses which
are unL1eniable, however lnng we lnight be in arriving
at thew; but in this case the long retrospection loL1gt,S
I1S at length at what are called first principles, the
recondite ::;ources of all knowleùge, as to which loo'ic
_ 0
provides no COlnlllon mea"'ure of minds,-w hich are
accepted by SOll1e, rejpcted hy others,-in which, and
not-in the
yllog1
tic exhibitions, lies the ,,'hole prohlelD
of attalning to truth,---and which are called self..
evident by their respective ad\ ocate
becau
c they aJ'e

2i O

Inference.

evident in no other way. One of the two uses C"'on-
tenlplated in rcasoning by rule, or in verbal argunleu-
tation, \yas, as I have said, to estab1ish a standard of
truth alid to supersede the ipse di.rit of authority:
how does it fulfil this end, if it only leads us back to
first principles, about ,vhich there is interrninable con-
troversy? V..,r e fire nut able to prove by syllogislI1
that there are any self-evident propositions at all; but
-suppo
ing there are (as of course I hold there are),
!'till ,vho can determine these by logic? SyI1ogislu,
then, though of course it has its use, stiIl does only
the minutest and easiest part of the work, in the in-
vestiga,tion of truth, for when there is any difficulty,
that Jifficulty comnlonly lies in determiliing first prin-
ciples, not in the arrangelnent of proofs.
Even when argull1ent is the most direct and severe
()f its kind, there Illust lJe those assurnptions in the
process which resolve thenlselves into the conditions of
hunlan nature; but ho\v lllany more a
sumptions ùoes
that proceç:s in ordinary concrete matters in vol ve,
"Subtle a
suluptions not directly arising out of the
e
prilllary conditions, but accolnpanying the course of
reasoning, step hy step, and traceable to the sentinlent.s
()f the age, country, religion, social habits and ideas, of
the particular illquirers or disputants. and passing
current without detection, because admitted equally on
all hands! And to these nlust be added the a
sump-
tions which are made from the necessity of the cnse, in
consequence of the prolixity and elaborateness of any
argument which should faithfully note down all the
propositions which go to make it np. "r e recognize this

l
òr/}la I Illfcrl'IlCe.

27 1

tediousness even in tùe case of the theorems of l
nclid,
though lllathematical proof is comparati'lely sin1ple.
Logic then does not really prove; it enables us to
join issue with others; it suggests ideas; it opens views;
1t maps out for us the ]ines of thought; it verifies nega-
tively; it determines ,vhen differences of opinion are
hopeless; and when and ho,v far conclusions are pro-
bable; but for genuine proof in concrete nlatter we
require an organon more delicate, versatile, aud elastic
than verbal argulllentation.

I ought to give an il1ustration of what I have been
stating in general terms; but it is difficult to do so
without a digression. However. if it must be, I look
round the room in which I happen to be ,vriting, and
take down the first book which catches nlY eye. It is
an old volun1e of a
Iagazine of great nalne; I open it
at randolll and fall upon a discussion about the then
lately discovered emendations of the text of Shake-
speare. It will do for my pnrpose.
In the account of Falstatf's dea.th in "IIenry ''''.''
(act ii. scene 3) ,ve read, according to the recei\yed text,
the well-known ,voras, cc His nose was as sharp as a pen,
and 'a ba bble<l of gl'eell fiellls." In the first authentic
eJition, published iI1 IG23, sorne years after
hake-
speare's death, the words, I believe, ran, "antI a table
of green fields," ,vhich has no sense. Accordingly, an
anonymous critic, reported by Theobald in the last
century, corrected theln to "and 'a talked of green
fields." Theobald himself in1proved the reading into
" and 'a babbleù of greeD fields," which since his titHe

27 2

Infercllce.

has been the rt'ceiveù text. But just twenty years ago
an annotated copy of the edition of 1 G32 ,vas found,
annotated perhaps by a contelllporary, \vhich, alllong
as Inany as 20,00U corrections of the text, substituted
for the corrupt reading of 1623, the ,vords " on a table
of green frieze," whicb has a sufficient sense, though
far less acceptable to..an admirer of Shakespeare, than
rrheohtLld'
. 'fLe genuineness of this copy with its
annotations, as it is presented to us, I shall here take
for granted.
K ow 1 understand, or at least win suppose, the
argulllent, maintained in the article of the :ßlagazine in
question, to run thus :-" Theobald's reading, as at pre-
sent received, is to be retained, to the exclusion of the
text of IG23 and of the elnendation made on the copy
of the edition of lô32 ;-to the exclusion ot the text of
1 ô23 because that text is corrupt; to the exclusion of
tbe aunotation of IG32 because it, is anonymous." I
wish it then observed how many la.rge questions are
opened in the di:-\cussion \vhich ensues, how many
reconòite and untractahle principles have to be sett1ed,
allù how impotent is logic, or any reasonings which
can be thrown into language, to deal with these
inc1 ispcn
able first principles.
The first position iç;, "The autnoritative reading of
1623 is not to be restored to the receiveò text, becausp
it is corrupt." Now a.re we to take it for granted, as a
first principle, which needs no proof, that a text Il1ay
Le tanlpered with, because it is corrupt? I-Iowever the
corrupt reading arose, it is authoritative. It is found in
tin edition, published by known persons, only six year

PorJJlal Ill.ferellce.

273

after Shakespeare's death, from hi8 own manuscript,
as it appear
, and with his corl'ections of earlier faulty
in11)l"l'

ioDs. Authority cannot sanction nonsense, but
it can forbid critics fruin experÏ1nentalizing upon it. If
the text of Shakespeare is corrupt, it should be pub-
] ished as corru pt.
I believe the beiSt editors of the Greek tragedians
have given up the irnpertinence of introducing their
conjectures into the text; and a classic like Shakespeare
has a right to be treated with the same respect as
.1E
ch)'lus. To this it will be 1'ep1ied, that Shakespeare
is for the general public and Æschylus for students of
a dead language; that the run of men read for am llse-
n1cnt or a
a recreation, and that, if the editions of
Shakespeare were made on critical principles, they
,,
ould remain unsold. Here, then, we are brought to
the question w hetber it is any advantage to read
Shake
peare except ,vith the care and pains ,vhich a
c1assic d8lnanùs, and w11ether he is in fact read at a1l
by tho
e whonl !Such critical exactness would offend;
and thus we are led on to further questions about
cultivation of mind and the education of the ma
ses.
Further, the question presents itself, whether the
general admiration of 8hake
peil/re is genuine, whether
it is not
L Il1ere fashion, whether the mnl titude of lnt'll
undcl"stand hirn at all, whether it is not true that every
one make
much of hiIn, because everyone else Inakes
n1ucb of him. Can ".e possibly lllake Shakesppare
light reading, especially in this day of cheap novels, by
l:ver so 111uch correction of his text?
XO\V suppusing this point ð8ttled, and the tAxi of
T

2ï4

1 Jljercllce.

16
3 putout of court, then C011les the clnim of tlle
Annotator to introduce into Shnkespeare's text the
pnlell<1ation rnade upon his copy of the edition of IG32 ;
why i
be not of greater authority than Theobald, the
inventor of the received reading, and his emendation
of II10re authority than r.rheobald's? If the corrupt
reading- must any l
nv be got out of the way, ,vhy
should not the
t\nnotator, rather than 'rheobald, ùeter-
mine its substitute?
'or what ,ve know, the authority
of the anonYlllous Annotator 111ay be very great. There
is nothing to sho\v that be was not a contemporary of
the poet; and if so, the question arises, what is the
character of his ernellda tions? are thpy hi
own private
ana nrbitrary conjectures, or are they inforll1ations
frOl11 thOðP ,vho knew Shakc!:;peare, traùitiollR of the
theatre, of the actors or spectators of hi::-; plays? I-Iere,
then, we are involved in intricate questions which can
only be decided by a minute ex
tlnin'ttion of the
O,OOO
elnendations so indnstriou
ly brought together by this
anonymous critic. But it is obvious that a verbal
argumentation upon
O,OOO corrections is impossible:
there must be first careful processes of ppruç:al, classi-
fica tiou, rliscrimination, selection, w bich lnainly are
acts of the Ininù without the intervention of language.
There 1l1Ust be a cUlnu1atiull of argulnents on one side
and on the other, of ,vhich only the heads or the results
can 1e put upon paper. Next come in questions of
criticism and taste, ,vith their recondite and Jisputable
premisses, and the usual deductions from them, so
subtle and difficult to follow. All this being considered,
am i wrong in saying tbat, though controverBY is both

Forll1al/llferellce.
J

275

possible and useful at all tiJnes, yet it is not adequate
to this occasion; rather that that sum-total of argument
(whether for or against the Annotator) which is fur-
nished by his numerous emendations,--or what may
be caned the multiform, evidential fact, in which the
exanlination of these emendations results,- requires
rather to be photographed on the individual Itlind as by
one ilnpres
ion, than aùmits of delineation for the satis-
fhction of the Jnany in any known or possible language,
however rich in vocabulary and flexible in structure?
And now as to the third poin
which presents
itself for consideration, the claim of Theobald's enlen-
dation to retain its place in the tpxtus receptus. It
strikes nle with wonder that an argurnent in its
defence could have been put forward to the foHowing
('ffect, viz. that true though it be, that the Editors of
1623 are of much higher authority than rrheobald,
and that the ..1.nnotator's reaò.ing in the passage in
question is more likely to be correct than Theobald's,
nevertheless Theobald's lias by this time acquired a
prescriptive right to its place there, the prescription
of more than a hundred years j-that usurpation has
beCOITIO legitimacy; thati Theobald's words have sunk
into the hearts of thousands; that in fact they have
become Shakespeare's; that it would be a dangerous
innovation and an evil precedent to .touch thern. If
we Legin an unsettlement of the popular mind, ,,"here
is it to stop?
'rhus it appears, in order to do justice to the
quc:,tion before us, we have to betake ourselves to the
cOllsideration of myths, pious frauds, and other grave
T 2

27 6

Inference.

matters, w'l1Ïch introduce us into a sylva, dense and
intricate, of first principl{1s and elementary phenoJnena,
belunging to. the domains of archeology and theology.
Nor is this all; when such views of the duty of
garhling a classic are propounded, they open upon us
a long vista of sceptical interrogations which go far
to disparage the clai R1S upon us, the g{1nius, the very
existence, of the great poet to whose honour these
vie'ys are intended to 111inister. For perhaps, after
all,
hakef'peare is really but a collection of nlany
'l'heobalds, who L
ve pach of tbel11 a right to his own
share of him. There ,vas a great òralnatic school in
bis ùay j he ,yas one of a nUlnber of first-rate :u,tists,-
PCl'}tapS they wrote in Cc)llUllon. I-Io\v are we to know
,,,hat is his, or how' Hluch? ....'-re the best parts his,
or the \vorst? It is
aid that the p]a'yer
put in what
is vulgar and uffensive in his writing8; perhaps they
inserted the beauties. I have heard it urged years
ago, as an objeetion to
beriùan's clain1 of authorship
to the pl:lYs which bear hi:;; name, that they were so
unlike each other; is not this the very peculiarity
of those imputed to Shakespeare? 'V ere ever the
writings of one man so variou
, so impersonal? Can
,ve fOrIn anyone true ide3 of what he was in history
or character, by H1eans of them? i
he not in short
"vox et lJro
te1"a uihil"? Then again, in corrobora-
tion, is there any author's life so deficient in bio-
gl>aphical notices as his? \\r e know about Jlooker,
Spensér,
pelman, Raleigh, Harvey, his contem-
poraries: what do ,ve know of Shakespeare? Is he
much more than a name? Is not the traditiolla]

PorJJzal Inference.

277

object of an Englishman's idolatry after an a nebula
of genius, destined, like Homer, to 'be resolved into
its separate and independent luminaries, as soon as
we have a criticiHm powerful enough for the purpose?
I D1USt not be supposed for a B10mcnt to countenance
such scepticisln luysclf,-though it is a subject
worthy the attention of a sceptical age: here I have
introduced it simply to suggest how many words go
to make up a thoroughly valid argurnent; how short
ana easy a way to a true conclusion is the logic of
good sense; how litt1e syllogisms have to do witb the
formation of opinion; ho,v little dependR upon the
inferential proofs, and how much upon those pre-
existing beliefs and views, in which men either already
agree with each other or hopelessly differ, before they
begin to dispute, and which' are hidden deep in OUl"
nature, or, it may be, in OUl" personal peculiarities.

2.

So much on the illultip1icity of assumptions, which
in spite of formal exactness, logical reasoning in con-
Cl'etp matters is forced to adn1Ït, and on the consequent
uncertainty '" hich attends its conclusions. Now I
come to the second reason why its conclusions are
thus wanting in precision.
In this world of sense ,ve have to do with things, far
n10re than with notions. 'Ve are not solitary, left 10
the contemplation of our o,vn thoughts and their legiti-
mate developments. \Ve fire surrounded by external
b
illgs,and our enunciations are directed to the concrete
\Ve reason in order to enlarge our knowledge of matters J

27 8

Infere1lce.

which do not depend on us for being what they are.
But bo\v is an exercise of mind, ,vhich is for the most
part occupied ,vith notions, not things, competent to
deal with things, except partially and indirectly? This
is the main reason ,,,hy an inference, ho\vever ful1y
,vordt'd, (except perhaps in son1e peculiar cases, which
are out of place here,rnever Call reach so far as to a!:;ccr-
tain a fact. -,,-\s I have already said, argurneuts about
the abstract cannot handle and determine the concrete.
'rhcy may approximate to a proof, but they only reach
the probable, because they cannot reach the particular.
]
vell in mathematical physics a margin is left for
possible imperfection in the investigation. \Vhen the
planet Neptune was discovered, it was deservedly con-
sidered a triumph of science, that abstract reasonings
bad done so much towards détermining the planet aud
its orbit. 'rhere ,vould have been no triuIllph in succpss,
had there been no hazard of failure; it is no triul11ph
to Euclid, in pure matbell1atics, that the geometrical
conclusions of his second book can be worked out and
verified by algebra.
'rhe nlotions of the heavenly bodies are alnlost mathe-
matical in their precision; but there is a multitude of
mat tel's, to wbich mathe'natieal science is applied,
which are in their nature intricate and obscure, Hnd re-
quire that reasoning by rule should be completed by the
living mind. Who would be satisfi
d with a navigator
or engineer, who bad no practice or experience whereby
to carryon his scientific conclusions out of their native
abstract into the concrete and the real? 'Vhat is the
meaning of the distrust, which is ordinarily felt, of

ForJJzallllferellce.

279

specuhtors and thpori
tR but thi
, that they arc dead to
the nc('csÛty of personal prudcnce and juùglnent to
qualify and complete their logic? Science, working hy
it :5elf, reacbes truth in the abstract, and probaùilityin the
concrete j but wLat we aiTH at i
truth in the concrete.
This is true of other. inf(\rences be
ides mathematical.
'rhey conle to no definite conclusions about matters of
fact, except as they are made effectual for their purpose
by tho li\rÍllg intelligence ,vhich nses them. "All mell
have their price; Fabricius is a man; he has his price;"
but be hfLtl not his price; how is this? Becanse he is
more than a universal; because he falls under other
uni\
ersab; because univerðals are ever at war with each
other; because what is caned a universal is only a
general; because \vhat is onl.", general does not lead to
a npces
ary conclusion. Let us judge hin1 by another
univer:-õal. "\len have a conscicnce; .Fabricius is a
man; he has a consciellce." Until ,ve have c.lctual
experience of Fabricius, we call only say, that,
ince he
is a Ulan, perhaps he will take a bribe, and pel'haps
he win not. " Latet dolus in generalibu
j" they are
arhitrary and fal1acious, if "-e take thell1 for 1110re than
bruad viewH allll a
ppcts of things,
ervillg as our notes
an(l indications for judging of tLe particular, but not
absolutely touching and determining facts.
Let units COllle first, and (so-caned) uni \.ersals second;
let univ('r
als 111illi
h'r to units, not units be :sacrificed to
ulliver:,als. John, Hichanl, and Robl'rt are individual
thilJg
. independent, incoIllnluniL'able. 'Ve filay find
some kind of common measure between thenl, and we
may gi\'e it the name of man, man as such, the typical

280

Illference.

man, the auto-antlu'opos. 'Ve are justified in so doing,
und in investing it with general attributes, and bestow-
ing on it what we consider a definition. But we think
we may go on to impose our definition on the whole race,
and to every mem bel' of it, to the thou
and Johns,
Richards, and Roberts ,vho are found in it. No; each
of theu1 is wlJat he is, .n spite of it. Not anyone of
them is man,a
such,orcoincideswiththeaulo-anth}.opns.
Another John is not necessarily rational, because cc all
lnen are rational," for he Dlay he an idiot ;-nor hecause
" man is a being of progress," does the second Richard
progress, for be nlay be a dunce ;-nor, because" man is
made for society," must we therefore go on to deny
that the second Robert is a gipsy or a bandit, as he
is found to be. There is no such thing as stereotyped
hUlnanity; it must ever be a vague, bodiless idea,
because tLe concrete units froln which it is forn1ed are
indepenùent realities. G ellerallaws are not inviolable
truths; III ueh less are they necessary cau
es. Since, as
a rule, Dlen are rational, progressive, and social, there is a
high probability of this rule being true in the case of a
particular persoll; but ,ve Inust kno,v him to be sure of it.
Each thing has its own nature and its o\vn history.
'Vhen the nature and the
istory of nlany things are
siluilar, we say that they ha,ve the same nature; but
there is no such thing as one and the same nature; they
are each of them itself, not identical, but like. A law is
not a fact, but a Dotion. "_\..11 men die; therefore Elias
has died;" but he has not died, and did not die. lIe
'was an exception to the general la,v of humanity; so
far, he did not come under that la\y, but under the ]aw

FÙ1'lJlal .Inference.
(so to say) of Elias. It was the peculiarity of his
indiviùuality, that he left the worlJ ,vithout dying:
what right have we to
ubject the person of Elias to
the scientiHc notion of an abstract humanity, which we
lwxe ft'l'lIlpd without acking his leave? 'Vhy must the
tyrant Inajority create a rule for his individual history?
U B'ut nIl nlen are mortal?" not so; what is really nleallt
b
r this univcr
al is, that 'c man, as such is 1110rtal," that
is, the aL
tl'act, typical au to-a nth'",upos ; to this major
prclnÍ::;s the lllÍnor, if Elias is to be proved mortal,
ought to 1e, " Elias was the abstract man ;" but he
,,"as l1ot, anJ could not be such, nor could anyone
{!be, any 1110re than tbe average man of an Insurance
COllll Xtn y is every inJividual man who insures his life
with it. Such a syllogislll proves nothing about the
veritable Elias, except in the way of antecedent pro-
bability. If it be saitl that Elias ,vas exelnpted from
<leath, not by nature, but by Iniracle, what is this to
the purpose, unJeuiable as it is? Still, to have this
miraculous exenlption ,,"as the personal prerogative of
Elias. 'Ve call it 111iracle, because God ordinarily acts
otherwi!::c. He who cau
cs n1en in general to die, gave
to Elins not to die. "fhis luiraclJ Ions gift cornes into
the iutlivj,luality of Elias On thi$ iudividuality \ve
Blust fix our thoughts, ana not begin our notion ot hirn
1JY ignoring it. He ,vas a mau, and something more
than" Inan "; and if we do uot take this into account,
we fan into an initial error in our thoughts of him.
\VLat is true of EJias is true of everyone in his own
place and dcgrep, ,Ve call rationality the distinction
of man, when compared with other auimals. This is

281

282

I1ifereJlCe.

true in logic; but in fact a man differs from a brute,
not in rationality only, but in all that he is, even in
those respects in which he is most like a brute; so that
t i
w hole self, his bones, limbs, make, life, rea
on,
moral feeling, immortality, and all that he is besides,
is his real rl{tlt)rentia, in contrast to a horse or a dog.
And in like )Uallner as regards JolIn and Richard,
when C01l1pa1'ctl with one another; each is himself, and
nothing else, and, though, regarded abstractedly, the
t\VO IllaY fairly be said to have sOlnething in common,
(viz. that ahstract Sfillloness \vhich does not exist at
all,) yet strictly speaking, they have nothing in
conlmon, for each of then1 has a vestetl interest in all
that he hiluself is; and, lnoreover, what seems to be
conl111on in the two, becolnes in fact so UnCOlTIlTIOn, so
8U i siw ile, in their respective individualities-the
bodily fr
lll1e of each is so singled out froln all other
bodies by its special constitution, sound or weak, by
its vitality, activity, pathological history and changes

and, again, the mind of each is so distinct from all
other lllind
, in disposition, powers, and babits,-
that, instead of
aying, a8 logicians say, that the two
nlen ditrer only in nunlber, we ought, I repeat, rather
to say that they differ from
ach other in all that they
are, ill identity, in incomlTIunicability, in personality.
K or dues any real thing admit, by any calculus of
logic, of being dis
ected into all the possible general
notions ,vhich it admits, nor, in consequence, of being
recomposed out of them; though the attenlpt thus to
treat it is more unpromising in proportion to the
intricacy 3nd completeness of its nlake. We cannot

Forlnat IJlfi'l cnce.

28 3

see through anyone of the II1yriad beings which In:tke
up the ulliver
c, or give thp fnll catalogue of its
belon O'ino's. \ \r
are accustomed. indeed, and rig-btl y ,
b ..., ......
to
pcë:lk uf tho Creator Hirnself as incomprehensible;
und, indeed, He is so by an incolnll1ul1icaùle attribute;
but in a certain sellse each of llis creatures is incoln-
prehen
ible to us also, in the sense that no one has a
pcrf{
ct ulHlcrstanding of them but fIe. We recognize
and 3ppropri?Jte a
pects of them, and logic is useful to
us in registering these aspects and wllat they imply;
but it does not give us toknoweven one indiyidual being.
So much on logical argunlPntation; and in thus
sppakillg of the syllogism, I speak of all inferential
pl'OCes:-;e8 'whatever, as expressed in language, (if they
are such as to be reducible to sciencé,) for they all
require gcnern.l notions, as cúnditions of their coming
to a conclu
ion.
Thus, in the deductive argument, "Europe has no
security for peace, till its large standing arnlies in its
separate states arp reduced; for a large standillg arulY
is in it
very idea provocative of ,var," the conclusion
is only probable, for it may so be that in no country is
that pure idea realized, but in every country in concrete
fact there nlay be circumstances, political or social,
which destroy tho abstract dangerousness.
So: too, as regards Il1Juction aud Analogy, as modes
of Inference i for, ,,,hether I argue, "Thi
place ,viII have
the cholera, unless it is drained; for there are a nurnber
of well-ascertained cases which point to this concll1
ion;"
or, "The snn will rise to-nloITow, for it rose to-day j"
in either method of reasoning I appeal, in order to

28 4

Inference.

prove a particular case, to a general principle or law,
which ha
not force enouO'h to ,varrant more than a

probable conclusion. As to the cholera, the place in
question rnay have certain ant'ìgonist advantages,
which ant.icipate or neutralize the Inia
ma ,vhich is the
principle of the poison; and as to the SUll'
rising to-
morrow, there was a fir.t day of the sun's rising, and
therefore there l1lay he a last.

This is what I have to say on formal Inference,
when taken to represent Ratiocination. Science in all
its departments has too much sinlplicity and exactness,
froln the nature of the ca
e, to Le thp measure of fact.
In its very perfection lies its incompetency to settle
particulars and details. As to Logic, its chain of con-
clusions hangs loose at both elllls; both the point frOlJl
,vhich the proof
honhl start, ana the poilJts at which
it should arrive, fire òeyond its reach; it COlnes short
both of first pl'ineiplcs and of concrete is
ues. Even
its ll10st elaborate exhibitions fail to represent ade-
quately the
uln-total of con
idei
ations by which an
individual nlind is dctprnlined in its judgment of
things; even its 1110st careful conl hil1ations ulnde to
bear on a conclu
ion "TUl1t that steaùiliess of aim
which is necessary for bitting it. As I said whf'l1 I
bcgau, thought is too keen and manifold, its sources
are too reolote and hidden, its path too personal,
delicate, and circuitous, its subject-matter too various
and intricate, to admit of the tralnnlpls of any lan-
guage, of ,v!Jatevpr subtlety and of whatever compass.
N or is it any disparag<.-'lncut of the proper value of

For1JzallnfercJlce.

28 5

formal reasonings thus to
peak of them. That they
Cannut proceed beyond probaLilities is most re
dily
allowed by those ,vho use them most. Philosopher
,
experÏ1nentalist::;, lawyers, in their several ways, have
cotnnlonly the reputation of being, at least on moral
and rpligious subjects, bard of belief; because, pro-
ceeding in the necessary investigation by the analytical
Inethud of verbal inference, they find within its litnits
no
ufficient resources for attaining a conclusion. Nay,
they ùo not always find it possible in their own special
province severally; for, even when in their hearts they
have no doubt aLout a, concl USiOD, still often, fl'om the
habit of their minds, they arc reluctant to own it,
and dwell upon the deficiencies of the evidence, or the
pO:5
ibility of error, because they speak by rule and
by book, though they judge and detertnine by
cominon-scn
e,
Every exercise of nature or of art is good in its
place; and the uses of this logical inference are mani-
foJd. It Ü; the great principle of order in our thinking;
it reduce
a chao
into harmony; it catalogues the ac-
clunulations of knowleJge; it maps out for us the-
relations of its separate departlnents; it puts us in the
way to correct it
own Inistakes, It enables the in-
dependent intellects of Inany, acting and re-acting on
each other, to bring their collective force to bear upon
one and the S
llne
uhject-lnatter, or the same question.
If language i:3 an ine
titnable gift to nlall, the logical
faculty prepares it for our u
e. 'rhough it does not go
so far as to ascertain truth, still it teaches us the-
dil'( C
iUll in ,vhich truth lies, and how propositions lie-

286

Inference.

towards each other. Nor is it a slight benefit to know
what is probable, and wbat is not so, what is needed
for the proof of a point, what is wanting in a theory,
how a theory hangs together, and what will follow, if
it be admitted. rrhough it does not itself discover the
unknown, it is one principal \vay by ,vhich discoveries
are made.
loreover,.a course of argument, which is
simply conditional, will point out when and where
experiment and observation should be applied, or testi-
mony sought for, as often happens both in physical and
legal questions. A logical hypothesis is the lliPans of
holding facts together, eXplaining difficulties, and
reconciling the imagination to ,vhat is strange. And,
again, proce
ses of logic are useful as enaLling us to
g-et over particular stages of an investigation sp(
eùily
and surely, ab on a jourllt'Y Wt:
now and then gain
time by travelling hy night, lllake short cuts 'when
the high-road winds, or adopt ,vater-carriage to avoid
fatigue.
But reasoning by rule and in words is too natural to
us, to admit of being regar,-lcd lllerely in tho light of
utility. Our inquiries spontaneously fitl1 into scientific
sequence, and we think in logic, as ,ve talk in prose,
without ailning at doing so. llowever sure we are of
the accuracy of our instinctive conclusions, we a
in-
stinctively put them into words, fiS far as we can; as
preferring, if possible, to have them in an objective
shapp "hich we Cfln fall back upon,-first for our own
satisfaction, then for our justification with others. Such
a tangible defence of what ,ve hold, inadequate as it
necessarily is, con
iùered as an analysis of our ratioci-

ForJJlaIIJlf('rence.

28 7

nation in its length and breadth, nevertheless is in such
sense a
sociated with our holdings, and so fortifies and
illustrates them, that it acts as a vivid apprehension
acts, giving them luminousness and force. Thug in-
ference uecolnes a sort of sYlnuol of assent, and even
ueal'
upon action.
I havo enlarged on these obvious considerations, lest
I should seem paradoxical; but they do not irnpair the
nU1.in position of this
ection, that Inference, considered
in the ::-;ense of verbal argumentation, deternlines neither
our principles, nor our ultimate judgments,-that it is
neither the te
t of truth, nor the adequate basis of
aSSf'n t. 1

1 I have as!õ:ullH'd throughout t1)is Section that all verbZ\1 argumenta-
tion is u1timatd
' S) llogistic; and in consl'quence that it eyer requires
universal propositions :11)(1 comes short of concrete fact. A friend refer

mp to the dispute between Des Cartes and Ga
sendi, the latter main-
taining against the former that "Cogito ergo sum" implie:o! the uni-
versal.' \ll who think exist." I shoul,1 dl'lIY this with })u; Cartes; but
I should say (as indeeù he said), that his dictum was not an argument,
but was the ex pression of a ratiocinative instinct, as I explain below
uuder the bead of " XatUl"al Logic.'"
As t.o the instance "Brutes are not men; therefore mcn are not
hrutes/' there seCl:lS to me 110 consequcnce here, neither a præter nor a
propter, but :\ tautology. .\n<l ßS to " It was either Tom or Dick that
did it; it was not Uick, ergo," this may be referred to the one great
principle on which all logical reasoning is founded, but really it ought
not to be accounted an inft.'rence Ilny more that if I broke a biscuit.
flulIg' half awlt)', nnd thell sahl of the other half, "This is what remains."
It dOt.';:i hut state a fact. So, when the 1st, 2nd, or 3rd proposition of
Euclid 11, is put before the c)"cs ill a diagram, a bOJ, before he )"et has
lcar11ed to re.lson, sees with his eyes the fact of the thcsis, aud this seein.q
it cven mn.kes it difficult for him to master the muthematicul proof.
Here, tbcn, afact is stated in the form of an argument.
However, I have inserted parenthc2:lcs at pp. 278 and 283. in order to

y ,. transcat " to the qucstion.

288

Infercllce.

2, INFORMAL INFERENCE.

IT is p1ain that forn1al logical sequence is not in fact
the method by which ,ve arp enabled to become certain
of what is concrete; and it is equally plain, frolTI what
has been already suggested, what the real and necessary
n1ethod is. It is the cumulation of probabilities, in-
dependent of each other, arising out of the nature and
circumstances of the particular case which is under
revicw; pro ba bilitie:-; too fine to avail sC'pal'atcly, too
subtle and circuitous to be convertihle into byllogisms,
too nU111CrOUS and various for such couversion, even ,vere
they convertible. As a man's portt nit differs froln a
sketch of him, in l1aving, not luerely a continuous
outline, but all its details fined in, and shades and
colours laid on and harIllOllized together, such is the
multifornl and intricate process of ratiocination, neces-
sary for our reaching hiln as a concrpte fact, compared
wit h the rude operation of syllogistic treatment.
Let us suppose I ,vish to convert an educated,
thoughtful Protcstant, and accordingly present for his
acceptance a syllogis111 of the following kind :-" All
Protestants are bound to join the Church; yon are
a Protestant: ergo." He answers, we will say, by

Ill/orJJta' .Ill.l
re Jlce.

289

(1enying hoth premi
scs; and he does so by Jncans of
argunleuts, 'which branch out into other arguments, and
those into others, anù all of them severally requiring tu
bo considered Ly hil11 on their !)\vn Inerits, before the
syllogisnl reaches hiln, and in conseqnence mounting up,
taken aItogéthcr, into an array of inferential exercises
large and various beyond calculation. )Ioreovel", he is
bound tosubnlit hiulself to this complicated process from
the nature of the case; he would act rashly, if he dill
not; for he is a concrete individual unit, anù being so
is under so many laws, and is the subject of so many
predications all at once, that he cannot determine, off-
hand, his position and his duty by the law ánd tll(

predic
tion of one syllogism in particular. I lHeall he
Inay fairly say, "Distinguo," to each of its premisses:
be says, " Protestants are bonnd to join the Church,-
under circumstances," and" I aln a Protestant-in ?
certain sens
;" and therefore the sy1l0giSlll, at first
sight, does not touch hiln at all.
Before, then, he grants the major, he asks ,vhether aU
Protestants really are bound to join the Church-are
they bound in case they do not feel themselves bound;
if they are satisfied that their present religion is a safE:
ODe; if they are sure it is true; if, on the other hand,
they have grave ùouhts as to the doctrinal fidelity and
purity of the Church; if they are convinced that th

Church is corrupt; if their con:5cience instinctively
rejects certain of its doctrines; if history convinces
theln that the Pop
's po,ver is not jure divino, but
Increly in the order of Providence? if, again, they
'In' in a heathen country whpre priests are not? or
L

2QO

fl
fcrellce.

'where the only priest who is to be found exacts ofthclTI
as a condition of their reception, a profes
ion, which the
Creed of Pope Pius I\T. sa.ys nothing about; for instance,
t hat the Holy See is fallible even \V'hen it te'lches, or
that theTelnporal Po,ver is an anti-Christiancorruption

On one or other of such grounds he thinks he need not
challge his religion; put presently he asks hilllself, Can
.:1 Protestant he in such a state as to be really satisfied
,vith hi
religion, as he bas just no\v been professing?
Can he pos
ihly believe Protestant.isnl caIne frolll above,
as a ,vhole? how rnuch of it can he believe Callie from
above? and, as to that portion which he feels did come
{I'Olll above, has it not all Leen derived to him from the
Church, ,vhcn traced to its source? Is not Protestantisnl
in itself a negat.ion? Did not the Church exist bpfore
it ? and can he be sure, on the other hand, that anyone
()f the Church's doctrines is 110t from above? Further,
he finds he has to Inake up his mind ,vhat is a corruptioll,
.find what are the tests of it; what he means by a
religion; ,vhether it is obligatory to profess any religion
in particub,r; what are the standards of truth and
falsehood ill religion; and ,vhat are the special claims
of the Church.
And so, again, as to the minor premiss, perhaps hp
will answer, that he is not a Protestant; that he is a
.Catholic of the early undivided Church; that he is a
.Catholic, but not a l)apist. Then he has to deterllline
qupstions about division, schism, visible unity, ,vhat is
e
sential, ,vhat is desirable; about provisional states; as
to the adjustlnent of the Church's claÍ1ns ,vith those of
personal juù.
'nlent and responsibility; as to the soul of

Illforllla! .Illfcrt-'llce.

29 1

the Church contrasted vrith the body; as to degrees of
proof, and the dpgree neces
ary for his cOIlver
ion; 3S
to what is called his providential position, anù the
re::;ponsibility of change; as to the sincerity of }) i i
pùrpose to follo,v the Divine Will, whithersoever it
lllay ]ead him; as to his intellectual capacity of investi-
gating such questions at all.
N one of these questions, as they come before him,
atlnlit of siulple demonstI'ation; but each carries with it
a number of independent probable' arguments, sufficient,
,vhen united, for a reasonable conclusion about itse]f.
_\_nd first he determines that the questions are such as he
personally, with such talents or attainments as he has,
may fairly entertain; and then he goes on, after delibe-
ration, to form a definite judglnent upon theln; ana
deterlnilles thenl, oneway or another, in their bearing 0 1 1
the balJ. syllogisnl which ,vas originally offered to his
acceptance. ..iud, we win say, he comes to the conclusion,
that be ought to accept it as true in his case; that he is
ß. I )rotestant in such a sense, of such a complexion, of
snch knowledge, undersuch circuillstances, as to be called
upon by duty to join the Church; that this is a
conclusion of which he can be certain, and ought to be
certain, and that he ,,,,ill Le incurring grave responsi-
bility, if he does not accept it as certain, and act upon
the certainty of it. And to this conclusion he comes,
as i
plain, not by any possible verbal enumeration of
all the considerations, luinute but abundant, delicate
but effective, which unite to bring hirn to it; but by a
Inclltal comprehension of the whole case, and a, discern-
ment of its upshot, sometilnes after much deliberation,
u 2

29 2

inference.

but, it may he, by a clear and rapid act of the intellect,
always, ho,ve\er, by áll ull,vritten sUlnming-up, some-
thing like the sUlnnlation of the terms, plus and 'minus
of an algebraical series.
This I conceiye to be the l'eallnethod of reasoning in
concrete Jnatters; and it has th
se c.haracteristics:-
Fir
t, it does not supersede the logical form of inference,
but i
one antI the sa01e with it; only it is no longer an
abstraction, but carried out into the realitie
of life, its
premisses being instinct with the substance and the
Inomentum of that mass of probabilities, which, acting
upon each other in correction and confirmation, carley
it home definitely to the individual case, which is its
original scope.
lS'ext, from what has been said it is plain, that such
a process of reasoning is more or less implicit, anù
without the direct and full advertence of the mind
exercunng it. As by the use of our eyesight we re-
cognize two brothel's, yet ,vithout being able to express
what it is by ,vhich ,ve distinguish them; as at fir
t
sight we perlHlps confuse them together, but, on better
kno,vledge, we see no likeness between them at all; as
it requires an artist's eye to determine what lines and
shaùes make a countenance look young or old, amiable,
thoughtfnl, angry or conceitet1, the principle of dis-
c1'Ïll1Ïnation oping in each case real, but Ünplicit ;-so is
the lllind unequal to a conlpll.te analysis of the motives
which carry it on to a particular conclusion, and is
8\\ ayed and determined by a body of proof, which it
t
ecognizes only a
a. Lady, and not in its constitu811t

{) a!.' t.
.

IJ/JorJJlal Infercnce.

20 3

A ncl thil'òly, it is plain, that, in this investigation of
the ulethod of concrete inference, we have not advanced
one step towards depriving inference of its conditional
charactor; for it iR still as dependent on pl'emi
ses as it
i
in its elen1entary idea. On tbe clHItrary, we bave
rather aàded to the obscurity of the problem; for a
syllogisnl is at least a demonstration, when the prelnisses
arc granted, but a cUlllulation of probabilities, over and
above their iruplicit chara.cter, ,vill vary both in their
nUlnLer and their separate estimated value, according to
the particular intellect which is employed upon it. It
follows that what to one intellect is a proof is not so to
another. and that the certainty of a proposition does
properly consist in the certitude of the mind which
contemplates it. .Å.ud this of course may be said
,vithout prejudice to the objective truth or falsehood of
propositions, Since it does not follo'v that these pro-
positions on the on
hand are not true, and based on
right reason, and those on the other not false, and
based on false reason, because not all men discriminate
theln in the saIne way.
llaving thus explained the view which I would take
of reasoning in the c01lcrete, viz. that, fronl the nature
of the case, and froln the constitution of the 11l11nal1
mind, certitude is the result of argulnents which,
takpn in the letter, and not in their full implicit sense,
are but probabilities, I proceed to dwell on some
in
tances and circutnstances of a phenomenon ,vhich
seelns to Ille as undeniable as to many it ill::J Y bp
}Jcrplcxi1Jg.

294

I1ljerence.

1.

Let us take three instances belonging respectively
to the present, the past, and the future.
1. 'Ve are all absolutely certain, beyond the possi-
bility of doubt., that Great Britain is an island. 'Ye
give to that propo
itioD our deliberate and uncondi-
tional tHlhcsion. There is no security on which ,va
f\hould be Letter content to stake our interests, our
property, our \velfare, than on the fact that \YC are
living- in an island. "r e have no fear of any geo-
graphical discovery ,,-hich may reverse our belief. 'Ve

hould be all1used or angry at the assertion, as a bad
jest, did anyone say that we \vere at this titne joined
to the main-land in
ol'\vay or in France, though a
canal was cut across the isthlnus. 'Ve are as little
exposed to the Ini!'giving, "Perhaps we are not on an
island after all," as to the question, "Is it quite cer-
tain that the angle in a semi-circle is a right-angle? "
It is a sinlple and primary truth with us, if any truth
is such; to believe it is as legitimate an exercise of
assent, as there are legitimate exercises of doubt or of
opinion. This is the position of our minds towards
our insularity; yet are thp arguments producible for it
(to use the common expru,sion) in black and \vhite com-
nlensurate \vith this overpowering certitude about it ?
Our reasons for believing that we are circum-
navigable are such as these :-first, we have been so
taught in our childhood, and it is so in all the maps;
next, \ve have never heard it contradicted or ques-
tioned; on the contrary, everyone WhOD1 we have

/llfOrJJla! lJifereJlce.

295

hem-a speak on tlH
subject of Great Britain, evory
book we heLve r
<tLl, invariably took it for granted;
our whole national history, the routine transactions
and current events of the country, our social and com-
Juercial
ystem, our political relations with foreigners,
illlply it in one way or another. N uluberless facts, or
what we consider facts, rèst on the truth of it; no
received fact rests on its being otber,vise. If there is
anywhere a junction between us and the continent,
where is it? and how do we kno,v it? is it in the
north or in the south? There is a manifest reductio
ad absurdnm, attached to the notion that we can be
ùect
iveù on such a point as this.
Ho,vever, negati\ye argulnents and circun1stantial
evidence are not all, in such a matter, which we bave a
right to require. rrhey are not the highest kind of
proof possible. Those who have circurnnavigated the
island have a, right to be certain: have we ever our-
selves even fallen in 'with anjY oue who has? And as
tv the COUlIUon be1ief, what is the proof that we are
not all of us believing it on the credit of each other?
Alld then, ,vhen it is said that everyone believes it;
and everyth
ng implies it, ho,v much comes hOllie to
tHO personally of this " everyone" and" everything "?
The question is, 'lVhy do I believe it myself? Å living
statesman is said to have fancied Demerara an island;
his belief was an impression; have we personally more
than an impression, if we view. the mat.ter argumenta-
tively, a lifelong Ì1npression about Great Britain, like
the belief, so long- and so ,videly entertained, that tho
earth wa
iuunovable, and the
un careered round it ?

29 6

IJlftrcJlce.

I am not at aU insinuating that we are not rational in
our certitude; I only mean that ,ve cannot analyze a
proof satisfactorily, the result of which good sense
.actually guarantees to us.
2. Father Ilardouin maintained that Tprence's
Plays, "\Tirgil's "LEneill," IIorfice's Odes, anù the
Histories of Livy and Tacitus, werü the forgeries of
1hp rnonks of the thirteenth century. That he should
Le able to argue in Lphalf of such a po
ition, shows of
cour:se tbat the proof in "behalf of th(\ received opinion
is not overwhehl1ing. 'fhat is, we JJave no lneans of
inferring ab
olute]y, that Virgil's episode of Dido, ur
()f the Sibyl, and IIorace's ,c're quoque n1ensorem"
:1ud " Queul tu
relpolnene," belong to that ....tugustan

ge, which o,ves its celpbrity n1ainly to those poets.
Our common-sense, however, belipves in their gen-
uineness without any hCðitation or re
erve, as if it
bad been demonstrated, and not in proportion to
the available evidence in its favour, or the balance of
arguments.
So nluch at first sight ;-but what are our grounds
for dismissing thus sUlnmarily, as ,ye are likely to do,
a theory such as Hardouin's? For let it bp observed
first, that all knowledge of the Latin classics COlnea to
us from the medieval transcriptions of them, and they
who transcribed them had the opportunity of forging
· or garbling them. We àre sirl1ply at their mercy; for
neither by oral transmi
sion, nor bymonumental inscrifJ-
tions, nor by contemporaneous 111anuscripts are the
works of ,rirgil, Horace, and Terence, of Livy and
Ta.citus, brought to our know ledge. The existing copies,

Illforllla/IJlferCJlce.

297

whenever made, arc to us the autographic originals.
X ext, it must be considered, that the nUlnerous re-
ligious hodies, then existing over the face of Europe,
had leisure enough, in the course of a century, to
COlllpOSe, not only all the classics, but aU the Fathers
too. 'rhe que
tion is, whether they had the aLility.
'filis is the main point on which the inquiry turns, or
at least the most obvious; and it forlns one of those
arguments, which, froln the natur0 of the case, are felt
rather than are convertible into syllogisnls. Hardouil1
allows that the Georgics, Horace's Satires and Epistles,
and the whole of Cicero, are genu'ine: we have a
standard then in these undisputed compositions of the
Augustan age. "T e have a stnndnrd also, in the
e
tant medieval ,,"orks, of ,,,hat the thirte0uth century
could do; and we see at once how wiùely the disputed
works differ froin the medie\9al. "Now could the
thirteenth century simulate .Jo.\.ugustan "riters better
than the
\ugustan could simulate such writers as those
of the thirteenth? X o. Perhaps, when the subject
is critically examincd, the question may Le brought to
a Dlore silnple issue; but as to our pel'
()llal reasons
for receiving as gcnuinc the whole of "\Tirgil, Horace,
Livy, Tacitu::;, and Terence, they are snnllned up in
our conviction that the monks had not the ahility to
write them. 'fhat is, we take for granted that ".e are
sufficiently informcù about the capabilities of the
human Jnind, and the condition
of gelliu
, to be
quite sure that an age which wa::; fertile in great ideas
and in D10mentous elemE'nt", of the future, robust in
t})ought, hopeful in its anticipations, of singular in-

29 8

Inference.

tel1ectual curiosity and aCUlneu, and of high genius in
at least one of the fine arts, could not, for the very
reason of its pre-enlinencp in its own line, have an
equal pre-en1inence in a contrary one. "r e do not
pretend to be able to draw the line lJetween what the
medieval intcl]ect could or could not do; but we feel
sure that at least it could not ,vrite the cla
sics. An
instinctive sense of this, and a faith in testimony, are
the sufficient, but the undeveloped argulnent on ,vhich
to ground our certitude.
I will add, that, if ,ve deal with arguments in the
luere letter, the question of the authorship of ,vorks in
any case ha
much difficulty. ] Lave noticed it in the
instance of Shakespeare, and of
ewton. \Ve are all
certain that Johnson wrote the prose of Johnson, and
Pope the pOl'try of Pope; but what is there but pre-
scription, at least after contemporaries are dead, to
connect together the "luthor of the work and the owner
of the llalHe ? Our lawyers prefer the exaulination of
present witnesses to affidavits on paper; but the tradi-
tion of "testilnonia," such hS are prefixed to the
c1assic
and the Fathers, together with the ab::;ence of
dissentient voices, is the adequate ground\vork of our
belief in the history of literature.
3. Once lllore: ,vhat are nlY grounds for thinking
that I, in nlY o,vn particular case, shall die? 1 anl as
certain of it in lllY own innermost mind, as I am that
I now live; but wllat is the distinct evidence on which
I allow nlvself to be certain? how would it tell in a
01
court of justice? how should I fare under a cross-
exalnination upon the grounds of my certitude? De-

In/ollllal Inference.

299

fi1onstration of course I C'tnnot have of a future event,
unless by lllean
of a Divine Voice; but ,vhat logical
defence can I Blake for that undoubting, obstinate
anticipation of it, of which I could not rid llJysclf, if I
Tried?
First, the future cannot be proved à posteri01oi; there-
fore we are compelled by the nature of the case to put
up ".ith à priori arguments, that is, ,vith antecedent
probability, which is by itself no logical proof.
ren
tell me that there is a la\v of death, meaning by la\y a
necessity; and I ans,ver that they are throwing du...t into
tny eyes, giving me words instead of things. 'Yhat is a
law but a generalized fact? and w.hat power has the
past over the future? and ,vhat po\ver has the case of
others over my own case? and how many deaths have I
seen? how Inany ocular witnesses have itnpartetl to n1e
their experience of dèaths, sufficient to establish what
is called a la,v?
Blit let there be a law of death; so there is a ]a\v, ,YO
are told, that the planets, if let alollp, would severally
fall into the sun-it is the centrifugal1a\v which binder;g
it, and so the centripetal law is never carried out. In
like nUluncr I
un not under the ]a,v of death alone, I
aln uncleI' a thousand laws, if I an1 under oue j and they
thwart and counteract each other, and jointly determine
thp irregular line, along' ,vhich my actual history runs,
divergent from the special direction of anyone of the
l1.
Ko law. is carried out, except in cases where it acts
frpely: how do I kno\v that the law of death win be
allowed its free action in n1Y particular case? 'Ye often
are ':tb1e to avert death by medical trcatluent: wby

3 00

luft'l'e71ce.

should d(iath l1ave its effect, sooner or later, in every
cn
e conceivable?
It is true tllat tll0 hun131l frame, in aU inç:.tances
,vhich come before me, first grows, and then declines,
,vastes, and decays, in visible preparation for dissolution.
"\,r e see ùeath selùom, but of this decline,,"'e are \vitnesses
daily; sti1J, it is a rlain fact, that 1110
t men ,vho die,
òie, not ùy any hnv of death, but by the law of disease;
ana senne "Titers have questioned whether death is
c\"('r, strictly speaking, natural. K O'V, are diseases
l1l'LeSf'al')"? is there any law that everyone, sooner
(11' later, Inust faU under the po,,'er of disea.:se? and
\v hat \vould happen on a largo scale, were there no
disea
e
? Is \"hat we can the la\v of death anything
11101'e than the chanco of disease? Is the prospect
of TUY death, in its logical evidence,-as that evid
nce
is brought honH
to me-much more than a lligh
probability?
The strongest proof I have for my inevitable mortality
is the reductio ad alJ:-;urdu11l. Can I point to the man,
in historic times, .who lIas lived his two hunlired years?
" })at has become of past generations of tIlen, unless it
is true that thej" suffered dissolution? But this is a
eircuitous argument to \va"rant a conclusion to which in
Illatter of fact I aahere so relent1e
sly. Anyhow, there
is a con
iderable "surplusage," as Lock
calls it, of belief
over proof
\vhen I determine that I individually must
dip. But what logic cannot do, IllY own living personal
reasoning, my good sense, w bich is the healthy condition
of such personal reasoning, but which cannot adequately
express itself in \vords, does for me, and I am Fossessed

Illf01'nlat Inference.

3 01

with the 1110st precise, ab
olute, masterful certituùe of
my dying SOllie ùay or other.
I HIll lell on by these reflections to make another
rcrnal'k. If it i:-:; difficult to explain ho,v a 111an know8
that he I:;haB die, is it not more difficult for him to
8ati
fy himself how he knows that he was born. IIis
knowledge about himself does not rest on 11l8n10ry,
Hor on distinct testimony, nor on circun1stalltial evi-
dence. Can he bring into one focus of proof the reasons
which 111nke Lilli so sure f I
tln not speaking of scien-
tific men, ,yho bave diverse channels of kno\vledge, but
of an ordinary individual, as ùne of ourselves.
Answers doubtless nlay be given to 80111e of these
ql1cstions; but, on the whole, I think it is the fact that
Inanyof our most obstinate and most reasonable cet"ti-
tudes depend on proofs \vhich are inforlnal and pel"-
sonal, which baffie our powers of analysis, and cannot
he brought under logical rule, becau
e they cannot be
submitted to logical statistics. If we must speak of
Law', this recognition of a correlation between certitude
and implicit proof seems to me a h1\V of our minds.

2.

I said just now that an object of sense presents it
elf
to our vie,v as one whole, and not in its separate details:
"
e take it in, recognize it, anù discriminate it frolll other
objects J all at once. Buch too is the intellectual view
we take of the momenta of proof for a concrete truth;
we gra
p the full tale of premisses and the conclusiun,
l)er modllm 'llnills,-by a sort of instinctive perception of
the Ipgiti1nate conclusion in and through the preluisses,

3 02

.Inference.

not by a formal juxta-position of propositions; though
of course such a juxta-position is useful and llaturaL,b()th
to direct and to verify, just as in objects of ;:)ight our
notice of bodily peculiarities, or the remarks of others
Inay aid us in establishing a case of disputed ideJ .tity.
"",--\nd, as this lnan or that ,,,ill receive his own impression
of ODe and the sam
person, and judge differently fl'om
others about his countenance, its expression, its moral
significance, its physical contour and cOlllplexion, so an
intellectual question may strike two minds very differ-
ently, lllay awaken in thetn distinct associations, rnay be
invested by thenl in contrary characteristics, and lead
thcln to opposite conclusions; -and so, again, a body
of proof, or a line of argument, lllay produce a distinct,
nay, a dissimilar effect, as addresseù to one or to the
other.
Thus in concrete reasonings ,ve are in great nH?aSUre
thrown lJêlck into that condition, froln which logic pro-
posed to rescue us. 'Ve judge for ourselves, by our own
lights, and on our own principles; and our criterion of
truth is not so lnuch the manipulHtion of propositions,
as the intellectual and Inural character of the person
Inaiutaining then1, and the ultilnate silent effect of his
argU111ents or conclusions npon our 1ninds.
1 t is this distinction between ratiocination as the
exercise of a living faculty in the individual intellpct,
and mere skill in arguillentarive science, ,vhich is the
true interpretation of the prejudice which exists agëtinst
logic in the popular mind, anù of the animadversions
which are levelled against it, as that its formulas n1ake
a pedant and ß. doctrinaire, that it never makes convert
,

lllforll/at lllfert-'llce.

3 0 3

tl1at it leaa
to rationalism, tl1at Englishmen are too
practical to be logical, that an ounce of common-sense
goes farther than many cartload!:) of logic, tbat
aputa
is the land of logicians, and the like. Such maxims
n1ean, when analyzed, that the processes of reasoning
which legitin1ately lead to assent, to action, to certitude,
are in fact too multiform, subtle, omnigenous, too im-
plicit, to alIowof being measured by rule, that they are
after all personal,-verbal argumentation being useful
only in subordination to a higher logic. It is this which
was meant by the Judge 'who, when asked for his advice
by a friend, on his being called to important duties
which were new to hin1, bade him always lay down the
la,v boldly, but never give his reasons, for his decision
was likely to be right, but his reasons sure to be
unsatisfactory. 'rhis is the point ,vhich I proceed to
illustrate.
1. I ,vill take a question of the present moment.
" \Ve shall have a European war, for Greece is auda-
ciously defying rrurkey." Ho\v are \ve to test the
validity of the reason, ilnplied, not expressed, in the
,vorJ "for"? Only the judgment of diplolnatists, states-
Dien, cnpitalists, and the like, founded on experience,
strengthened by practical and historical know ledge,
controlled by self-interest, can decide the worth of that
Ie for" in relation to accepting or not accepting the
conclusion which depends on it. 'l'he argument is frotH
concrete fact to concrete fact. How will mere lOD'ical
o
inferences, which cannot proceed without general and
abstract propositions, help us on to the determination
of tin::; particular ca
e? It i::; not the case of Switzerland

3 0 4

j Ilj'crellCC.

attacking Austria, or of Portugal attacking Spain, o

of Belgium attacking Pru
sia, but a case without
pa..ancl
. To ùra\v a scieutific conclusion, the argu-
111ellt must run sotuewhat in this ,yay :-" All audacious
defiances of Turkey on the part of Greece Inust end in
a EUl'opeau war; thc
e present acts of Greece are such:
ergo;" -where the Inajor pl'culiss is more difficult to
accept than the cOllclu
ion, and the proof bocollles an
"ob
clu'nnl per obscurins." But, in truth, I shoulJ
not betake myself to S0111e one universal proposition to
defend my own view of the matter; I should determine
the particular case by its particular circumstances, by
tho cOll1ùiu,ttion of ulany uncatalogued experiences
floating- in my melnory, of 11lêlllY reflections, variously
produced, felt rather than capable of statement; and if J
had theln Dot, I shoulù go to those who had. I assent
in conseqnence of some such complex act of judgment

or frolll faith ill those ,vho are capable of making its
and practical1y sylIogislu has no part, even verificatorJ,
ill the action of tny lllilld.
I take this instance at random in ilIuRtration; now
let me follow it up by lTIOre serious cases.
2. Lcighton says," 'Yhat a full confession do ,ve
Inake of onr dissatisfaction with the 0 bj ects of our
bodily sense:-;, that in our atten1pts to express what
we conceive of the best of beings and the greatest of
felicities to be, we de
cl'ibe by the exact contraries of
all that we experiellce here,-the one as infinite, inconl-
prehensible, immutable, &c,; the other as incorruptible,
undefiled, and that passeth not a'vay. At all events,
this coincideuce, say rather iùentity of attl"ibutes, i::;

Ill/0rlllal IJlference.

3 0 5

sufficient to apprise us that, to be inheritors of bliss,
"e Inust become the chilliren of God." Coleridge quotes
this pa
sage,and aùds, " Another and more fruitful, per-
haps InOl'e solid, inference from the facts \Voula be) that
there is something in the hUlnan Inind which Inakps it
know that in all finite quantity, there is an infinite, in
alllneasul'es of time an eternal; that the latter are the
basis, the substance, of the former; and that, as we
trul y are only as far as God is with us, so neither can
we truly ros
ess, that is, enjoy our being or any other
real good, but by living in the selise of His holy
presence." 1
'Vhat is this an argument for? how few readers will
enter into either premiss or conclusion! and of those
who under::;tand what it means, ,viII not at least some
confess that they understand it by fits and starts, not
ut all titHes? Can we ascertain its force by lnood anù
figure? Is there any royal road by which we may
indolently be carried along into the acceptance of it ?
Does Dot the author rightly nUlnber it among his (( aids)
for our" reflection," not instruments for our compul-
sion? It is plain that, if the passage is \vorth anything,
\ve must secure that worth for our own use by the
personal action of our own ll1inds, or el8e we shaH be
only profe
:;ing and asserting its doctrine, without
having any grounll or right to assert it. .à.ud our
preparation for under
tanrling and making use of it
will bp the general state of our n1ental discipline and
cultivation, our o,vn experiences, our appreciation of

I " Aids to Ueflection," p. 59. ed. 1839.

x

3 06

11lfere1lce.

religious ideas, the perspicacity and steadiness of our
intellectual vision.
3. It is argued by IIume against the actual occur-
rence of the Jewish and Christian tniracles, that, where-
as "it is experience only which gives authority to
hUlnan testimony, and it is the same experience ,vhich
assures us of the laws of nature," therefore, "when
these two kinds of experience are contrary" to each
other, "we are bound to subtract the one from the
other;" and, in consequence, since we have no expe,
rience of a violation of natural la\vs, and much expe-
rience of the violation of truth, " we may establish it
as a maxim that no human testimony can have such
force as to prove a miracle, anù make it a just founda-
tion for any such system of reI igion." t
I "ill accept the general proposition, but I resist its
application. Doubtless it is abstractedly l110re likely
that men should lie than that the order of nature
should be infringed j but what is a1stract reasoning to
a question of concrete fact? To arrive at the fact of any
lllatter, "'e must eschl'w generalities, and take things
as they stand, ,vith all their circutnstan('e
. ...1 priori,
of course the acts of Inen are not so trust,vorthy as the
order of nature, and the
retence of nlÏracles is in fact
more conlmon than thE' occurrence. But the question is
not about miracles in general, or men in general, but
definitely, ,vhether these particular miracles. ascribed
to the particular Peter, James, and John, are more
likely to have been or not; whether they are unlikely,
supposing that there is a Po\ver, extprnal to the world,
J \\rnrks, vol. iii. p. 178. eù. 1770.

IJlfo'r1Jzal I'llftrence.

3 0 7

who can bring' them about; suppo
ing they are the only
means by which lIe can reveal Himself tothosewho need
a revelation; supposing He is likely to reveal IIilllself;
that He has a great end in doing so; that the professed
miracles in question are like His natural works, and such
as lie is likely to work, in case IIe wrought mil'acles;
that great effects, other'wise unaccountable, in the event
followed upon the acts said to be miraculous; that they
were from the first accepted as true by large nUlubers
of mOll against their natural interests; that the recep-
tion of them as true has left its mark upon the ,vor'ld,
as no other event ever did; that, viewed in their effects,
they have-that is, the belief of thern has-served to
raise human nature to a high moral standard, otherwise
unattainable: these and the like considerations are parts
of a great cOInplexarglunent, which sofarcan be put into
propo
itions, but which, even between, and around, and
behind these, still is implicit and secret, and canllot by
any ingenuity beimprisoued inaformula,and packed into
a nut-shell. rfhese various conditions may be decided
in the affirmative or in the negative. That is a further
point; here I only insist upon the nature of the argu-
Inent, if it is to be philosophical. It lnust be no smar"t
antithesis which may look "ell on paper, but the living
action of the mind on a great problem of fact; and 've
mu
t SU1l1ffion to our aiù all our powers and resources,
if we woulù encounter it worthily, and not as if it were
a literary es
ay.
4. "Consider the estahli
hment of the Christian
rpligion," says Pascal in his" Thoughts." "Here is a
religion contrary to our nature, which establishes itself
x 2

3 08

Inference.

in men's minds with so much mildness, as to use no
external force; with so much energy, that no tortures
could silence its martyrs and confessors; and consider
the holiness, devotion, humility of its true disciples;
its sacred books, their superhuman grandeur, their
admirable simplicity. Consider the character of its
Founder; Iris ass
iates and disciples, unlettered luen,
yet possesseù of ,visdom sufficient to confound the ablest
philosopher; the astonishing succe

ion of prophets ,vho
heralded llirn ; tbe state at this d'l,y of the Jewish peo-
ple who r
iected Him and His religion; its perpetuity
find its holiness; the light ,,,hich its doctrines shed upon
the contrarieties of our naturp ;-after considering these
things, let any man judge if it be pos
ible to doubt
about its being the only true one." 3
'rhis is an argnnlcnt parallel in its character to that
ùy which
ve a
cribe the classics to the .Augustan age.
"r e urge, that, though we cannot draw the line defi-
nitely between what the monks could do in literature,
and ,vhat they could not, anyhow Virgil's" Æneid "
anù the Odes of Horace are far beyond the highest
capacity of the medieval mind, which, ho,vever great,
was different in the character of its endoWlnents. And
in like manner we .maintain, that, granting tbat we
cannot decide how far the human mind can advance
by its own unaided powers in religious ideas and sell ti-
ments, and in religious practice, still the facts of Chris-
tianity, as they stand, are beyond ,vhat is possible to
man, and betoken the presence of a higher intelligence,
purpose} and might.
3 Taylor's Translation, p. 131.

In.forllla' In.ference.

3 0 9

Iany have been converted and sustained in their
faith by this argument, which admits of being power-
fully stated; but still such statement is after all only
intended to be a vehicle of thought, and to open the
Illind to the apprehension of the facts of the case, and to
trace them and their implications in outline, not to
convince by the logic of its mere wording. Do we not
think and muse as we read it, try to master it as ,ve
proceed, put do,vn the book in which we find it, fill out
its details from our own resources, and then reSUTne the
study of it ? And, when we have to give an account of
it to others, should we make use of its language, or even
of its thoughts, and not rather of Its drift and spirit?
Has it never struck us what. different lights diffel'ent
n11nds throw upon the same theory and argument, nay,
how they SetID to be differing in detail whpn theyarp
professing, and in reality showing, a concurrence in it ?
lIave we never found, that, ,vhen a friend takes up the
defence of what we have written or said, that at first we
are unable to recognize in his statement of it what we
meant it to convey? It will be our wisdom to avail
our
elves of language, as far as it will go, but to aim
nlaillly by Uleans of it to stin1ulate, in those to \vholn
we a,ddre:ss ourselves, a mode of thinking and train
of
thought similar to our own, leading theln on by their
own iudepelldent action, not by any syllogistic C0111-
pulsion. Hence it is that an intellectual school ,vill
always have SOlllcthing of an esoteric character; for it is
an assemblage of Ininds that think j their bond is unity
of thought, and their words becolne a sort of tessera,
not expressing thought, but symbolizing it.

3 10

Illfcrellce.

Recurring to Pascal's argument, I observe that, its
force depending upon the assumption that the facts of
Christianity are beyond human nature, thprefore, accJrd-
ing as the powers of nature are placed at a high or low
standard, that force will be greater or less j and that
standard will vary according to the respective di
posi-
tions, opinions, and experipllcc
, of those to ,,'hom the
argutnent is addressed. Thus its value is a persona]
question; not as if there were not a.n objective truth
and Christianity as a whole not supernatural, hut that,
whpn we come to consider where it is that the super-
natural presence is found, there may be fair differences
of opinion, both as to the fact and the proof of what is
supernatural. There is a multitude of facts, which,
taken separately, may perhflps be natural, but, found
togéther, must come from a source above nature; and
,,,hat these are, and how Hlany are necessary, will be
variously determined. And while every inquirer has a
right to determine the question according to the best
exercise of his judgment, still whether he so det.ermine it
for himself, or trust in part or altogether to the judgment
of those \vho have the best claim to judge, in either case
he is guiùed by the implicit processes of the reasoning
faculty, not hy any manufacture of argulnents forcing
their way to an irrefragable conclusion.
5. Pascal writes in another place, 'c He ,vho doubts,
but
ecks llOt to have his doubts removed, is at once the
most crinlinal and the most unhappy of nlortals. If,
together ,vith this, he is tranquil and
elf-
atis:fìcd, ifhe
be vain of his tranquillity, or nlakes his state a topic of
mirth and self-gratulation, I have not words to describe

IIl.fo1'Jllat lufc rente.

3 11

so in
ano a creature. Truly it is to the honour of reli-
gion to bave for its adversa,ries men so bereft of reagon;
their oppositioli, far from beiug formidable, bears tcsti-
mony to its most ò.istingni
hing truth
; for the gr
at
object of the Christian religion is to establi,-;h the cor-
ruption of our nature, and the redemption by Jesus
Christ."i Elsewhere he says of :ßIontaigne," IIe involves
everything in such universal, nnlningled scepticism, as
to doubt of his very ùoubts. lIe was a pure Pyrrhonist.
lie ridicules all attempts at certainty in anything.
IJclighted ,,
ith exhibiting in hi
OW11 person the con-
tra,diction
that exist in thp mind of a free-thinker, it is
all Oll(? to him whether he is successful or not in his
argument. 'fhp virtue he loved was simple, sociable,
gay, sprightly, and playful; to use one of his own
expressious, (Ignorance and incuriousness are two
charlnillg pillows for a sound head.' " i
11e1'e are two celebrated writers in direct opposition
to each other in their fundanlental vie,v of truth and
duty. Shall we say that there is no such thing as truth
and error, but that anything is truth to a man which he
troweth? and not rather, as the solution of a great
lllystery, tlUtt truth there is, and attainable it is, but
that its rays stt'calll in upou us through the mediunl of
our l110ral (LS wpll as our intel1ectual being; and that
in con
equence that perception of its firðt principles
,vbich is natural to us is enfeebled, obstructed, per-
verted, by allurements of sense and the supremacy of
self, and, on the other hand, quickened by aspirations
ùfter the supernatural; so that at length two characters
4 Ibid. p
, ]rn;-110. I Ibid. pp. 429-436.

3 12

Illjere /lee.

of mind are brought out into shape, and t,vo standards
alid systems of thought,-each logical, when analJzed,
yet contradictory of each other, and only not antago-
nistic because they have no common ground 011 which
they ('an conflict?
6.
Iontaigne was endo,ved with a good estate,
health, lci
ure, and
Ln easy ternper, literary tastes, and
a sufficiency of books: he could afford thus to play
,vith life, and the aLy::;ses into which it leads us. Let
us take a case in contrast.
"I think," S
tY::; the poor dying factory-girl in the
tale, "if this should be the end of an, and if an I bave
been born for is just to 'work 111Y heart and life away,
Hnd to sicken in this drce place, with thosp 111iIl-stones
in my
ars for ever, until I could screatn out for theln
to stop and let rne have a little piece of quiet, and with
the fluff filling rny lungs, until I thirst to death for onA
long deep breath of the clear air, and my mother gone,
and I never able to tell her again how I loved her, and
of alllny troubles,-I think, if this life is the end, and
that there is no God to wipe a,vay all tears from all
eyes, I could go mad! " 6
Ht:re is an argulnent for the immortality of the soul.
As to its force, be it great or small, will it make a figure
in a logical disputation, carried on secuu(b.on artern?
Can alJY
cientific common measure compel the intellects
of Dives and Lazarus to take the same estiJnate of it ?
Is there any test of the validity of it better than the
,ipse dixit of private judgment, that is, the judglnent
uf those who have a right to juJge, and next, the

C "North and South."

IllforJJlat Inference.

3 1 3

agreement of Inany private judgments in one and the

anle view of it ?
I. ''In order to prove plainly and intelligibly," says
Dr. Salnuel Clarke, "that God is a Being, which must
of necessity be endued with perfect knowledge, 'tis to
be observed that knowledge is a perfection, without
which the foregoing attributes are no perfections at
all, and without \vhich those which follo'w can have no
foundation. 'Vhere there is no I{nowledge, Eternity
ana IUlll1ensity are a,s nothing, and Justice, Goodnes
,
)[ercy, and '\Tisdom can have no place. The idea of
eternity and omnipresence, devoid of knowledge, is as
the notion of darkness conlpared with that of light.
'Tis as a notion of the \vorld without the sun to illumi-
nate it j 'tis as the notion of inaniulate Inatter (which
is th0 atheist's supreme cause) c01l1pared with that of
light and spirit.
-\.nd as fur the following attributes
of J ustice, Goodne

,
Iercy, and 'Yi
aom, 'tis evident
that without knowledge there could not possibly be
any such things as these at al1." 7
The argument here used in behalf of the Divine

\.ttrihute of Knowledge conIes under the general pro-
position that the ..Attributes ilnply each other, for the
denial of one is the denial of the rest. To some minds
this thesis is
elf-e\"ident; others are utterly insensible
to its force. 'ViII it Lear bringing out into ,yords
throug-hout the ,,'hole series of its arO'ulnentative
u 0
link
? for if it doe
, then either those who lllaintain
it or those who reject it, the oue or the other, ,vill be
compelled by logical nece

ity to confess that they are

; SCl'm. xi. iuit.

3 1 4

InferC1lce.

in error. "God is wise, if He is eternal; He is good,
if He is wise; He is just, if He is good. 1J '''"hat skill
can so arrange these propositions, so adtl to the III , so
coulbine them, that they lnay be able, by the force of
their juxtfl-position, to follo\v one from the other, and
become one and the same by an inevitable correlation.
'fhat is not the m thod by which the argunlent be-
comes a demonstration. 8uch a method, used by a
'fheist in controversy ngainst men who are unprepared
personally for the question, will but issue in his re-
treat along a series of major propositions, farther and
farther back, till he and they find themselves in a land
of shadows, "'v here the light is as darkness."
'ro feel the true force of an argument like this, 've
must not confine ourselves to abstractions, and merely
compare notion with notion, but we must contemplate
the God of our conscience as a Living Being, as one
Object and Reality, 'llnder the aspect of this or tbat
attribute. 'Ve Inust patiently rest in the thought of
the Eternal, Omnipresent, and All-knowing, rather
than of Eternity, Omnipresence, and Omniscience j aud
we must not hurry on and force a series of deductions,
V{blCh, if they are to be realized, nlust distil like de,v
into our nlÍl1Js, and for'll thelnselves spontaneously
there, by a cahn contelIlplation and graùual under-
standing of their prelnisses. Ordinarily speaking,
Guch deductions do not flo,v forth, except according as
the TIllage, 8 presented to us through conscience, on
which they ùeppnd, is cherished \vithin us with the
sentiments \v hich, supposing it be, as we know it 18 1
· Vide supr, ch. v. 9 1, pp. 109, 113.

lJ/f01'JJzal IJ/jel C1lce.

3 1 5

thp truth. it necessarily clailns of us, and is seen re-
flected, by the habit of our intellect, in the appoint-
ments nud the events of the external world. .L\.nd, in
tl1eir lllanifesration to oue inward sen
e, they are
analogous to the know'ledge which we at length attain
of the details of a landscape, after w'e have selected
the right stand-point, and bave learned to accommo-
date the pupil of our eye to the varying focus neces-
sary for seeing tl1eln; lulve accn
tomed it to the glare
of light, have mentally grouped or discriminated lines
and :shadows and given them their due meaning, and
bave mastered the perspective of the "Thole. Or they
may be con1pared to a landscape as drawn by the
pencil (unless the illustration seem forced), in ,vhich
by the skill of tIle artist, amid the bold outlines of
trees and rock
, ",hen the eye Las learned to take in
their reverse aspects, the forms or faces of historical
personages are discernible, ,vhich we catch and lose
again, and then recover, and ,vbich SaIne who look on
with us are never able to catch at all.
Analogous to such an exercise of sight, must be our
nlode of dealing with the verbal expositions of an
argulnent such as Clarke's. His ,vords speak to those
,,-ho understand the speech. '1"'0 the mere barren
intellect they are but the pale ghosts of notions; but
the trained imagination sees in them the representa-
tions of things. He who has once detected in his
con-.;cience the outline of a Lawgiver and Judge, needs
no definition of Him, ,vhom he diluly but surely con-
telnplates there, and he rejects the ulechanism of
logic, which cannot contain in its grasp matters so

3 16

Inference.

real and so recondite. Such a one, according to the
strength and perspicacity of his miud, the force of his
presentiments, and his power of sustained attention,
is able to pronounce about the great Sight ,vhich
encompasses him, as about some visible object; and,
in his investigation of the Divine Attributes, is not
inferring abstractio 1 fronl abstraction, but noting
down the aspects ana phases of that one thing on
which he is ever p'azin
'. K or is it possible to Jin1Ït
the depth of Ineaning, which at Jength he ,vill attach to
words, ,vhich to the n1any are but. d.efinitions and ideas.
Here then again, as in the other instances} it seems
dear, that n1ethodical processes of inference, useful as
they are, a::; far as they go, arc only instrun1ents of the
mind, and need, in order to their due e
ercise, that
real ratiocination anù prt-'
ent in1Hgination which givps
them a sen
e Leyond their letter, ana whicb, while
acting through them, reaches to conclusions Leyond
and above them. Such a livjng urga110n is a personal
gift, and not a mer'e method or calculus.

8.

rrhat there are cases, in which evidence, not suffi-
cient for a scientific proof, is nevertheless sufficient for
assent and certitude, is the doctrine of Locke, as of
most men. He tens us tha.t belief, g.'ounded on suffi-
cient probabilities, cC rises to assurance;" and as to
the question of sufficiency, that ,vhere propositions
" border near on certainty," then cC we assent to theu]
as firmly as if they were infallibly deUlonstrated."
Thp only question is, ,vhat these propositions are: this

/1iforJJzal Illferellt:e.

3 1 7

he does not tell us, but he
eenlS to think that they
are few in llulnhcl", and will l,p without ftny trouble
recognized at once by COlllnon-sense; \vhereas, unless
I am mistaken, they are to bo founù throughout the
range of concrete matter, and that supra-logical juùg-
Ulcnt, which is the ,varrant for our certitude about
thein, is not 11lere COlllnon-sense, but the true healthy
a
tioll of our ratiocinative powers, an action more
subtle and lnore comprehensive than the mere appre-
ciation of a syllogistic argument. It is often called
the" judicium prudentis viri," a standard of certitude
which holù
good in all concrete matter, not ouly in
those cases of practice and Juty, in which we are
luore familiar .with it, but in questions of truth and
falsehood generally, or in what are called" specula-
tive " questions, and that, not indeed to the exclusion,
hut as the supplement of logic. Thus a proof, except
in abstract demonstration, has always in it, more or
le:,s, au eleluent of the personal, because" prudence"
is not a constituent part of our nature, but a personal
endowment.
And the language in common use, \vhen concrete
conclusions are in question, implies the presence of
this personal elelnent in the proof of them. \Ve are
considered to feel, rather t1m,u to see, its cogency; and
"e decide J not that the conclusion D1ust be, but that
it cannot be otherwise. 'Ye say, that ,ve do not see
our W'iY to doubt it, that it is inlpossible to doubt, that
we are bound to believe it, that we should be idiots J if
we did not believe. 'Ve never should say, in abstract
ibcience, that ,ve could not escape the conclusion that

3 18

IJlfil"ellce.

25 was a mean proportional between 5 and 125 j or
that a man had no right to say thn,t a tangent to
a circle at the extremity of the radius makes au acute
angle with it. Yet, though our certitude of the fact
is quite as clear, ,ve slJould not think it unnatural to
say that the insularity of Great Britain is as good as
denlúnstrated, or tha.t none but a fool expects never to
die. Phrases indeed such as these are s01netimes used
to express a shade of doubt, but it is enough for my
purpose if they are also used when doubt is altogether
absent. '''"hat, then, they signify, is, wbat I ha\Te so
much insisted on, that \\ e have arrived at these COll-
clusions-not e,(: Ope1"C ope'l"(do, by a scientific necessity
independent of ourscl\"es,-but by the action of our
own minds, by our own individual perception of the
truth in question, under a sense of duty to those con-
clusions and \vith an intellectual conscientiousness.
This certitude and this evidence are often called
mOI"al; a word which I avoid, as having a very vague
l11calling; hut using it hera for once, I ob:-\erve that
moral evidence and n10ral certitude are all that we can
attain, not only in the ca
e of ethical and spiritual
8ubject8, such as religion, but of terrestrial and cos-
mical questions also. So far, physical Astronomy and
Revelation stand on the
ame footing. Vince, in his
treatise on Astronomy, does but use the language of
philosoplâcal sobriety, when, after speaking of the
'proofs of the earth's rotatory motion, he says, " 'Vhen
these reasons, all upon different principles, are con-
sidered, they amount to a proof of the earth's rota-
tion about its axis, which is as satisfactory to the

IllforJllallllfercllce.

3 1 9

mind ;,\8 the most direct demonstration could be j" or,
as he had said ju
t before, "the mind rests equally
satisfied, as if the matter ,vas strictly proved." , 'fhat
is, fir
t there is no demonstration that the earth
rotates j next there is a cluster of "reasons on diJj'prent
pl'inciple
," that is, independent probabilities in cumu-
lation; thirdly, these" antount to a proof," and" the
n1ind" feels "as
f the matter ,vas strictly proved,"
that is, there is the equivalent of proof; lastly, "the
lllind rests sati.1ìed," that is, it is certain on the point.
.And though evidence of the fact is now obtained
which was not known fifty years ago, that evidence on
the whole has not changed its character.
Compare with this avowal the language of Butler,
when discussing the proof of I
eYelation. " Probable
proofs," he says, "by being added, not only increase
the evidence, but nlultiply it. The truth of our religion,
like the truth of comnlon matters, is to be judged by the
,vhole evidence taken together . . . in like manner as,
if in any common case llUlllerous events acknowledged
were to be alleged in proof of any other event disputed,
the truth of the di
puted event would be proved, not
only if anyone of the acknowledged ones ùid of itself
c1
arly imply it, but though no one of them singly did
so, if the whole of the ackno,vledged events taken
together could not in reason be supposed to have hap-
penclI, unless the disputed one ,vere true.". Here, as
in \.stronon1Y, i3 the

llnc absence of demonstration of
the tLesi
, the b3.me cumulating and converging indica-
tions of it, the same indirectness in the proof, as being

· Pp. S-t. b
.

1" Analo;;J," pp. 3
9, 330, ed. 1836.

3 20

Illjèrellce.

per ÏiIIP()ssibile, the same recognition nevertheless that
the conclusion is not only probable, but true. One other
characteristic of the argumentative process is given,
,yhich is unnecessary in a subject-matter so clear and
simple as astronolnical science, viz. the moral state uf
the parties inquiring or disputing. They nlllst be c, as
much iu earnest about religion, as about their telnporal
aff
.tirs, capable of being convinced, on real evidence,
that there is a God who governs the ,vodJ., and feel
themselves to be of a moral nature and accountable
creatures." 9
This being the state of the case, the question arises,
whether., granting that the personality (so to speak) of
the parties reasoning is an ilnportant element in
proving propositions in concrete lnatter, allY account
can be givt'll of the ratiocinative Inetbod in such proofs,
over and above that analysis into syllogisll1 which is
pos
ible in each of its steps in detail. I think there
call; though I fear, lest to some minds it lnay appt'ar
far-fetched or fanciful; however, I will hazard this
inlputation. I consider, theu, that the principle of con-
crete reasoning is parallel to the method of proof which
is the foundation of modern mathematical science, as
contained in the celebraterl. lelnma with which K ewton
opens hi
"Principia." 'Ve kno,v that a regular
polygon, inscribpd in a circle, its sides being continually
dinlinished, tends to become that circle, as its lilnit;
but it vanishes bpfore it has coincided with the circle,
so that its tendency to be the circle, though ever
nearer fulfilment, never in fact gets beyond a tendency.
t I bid. p. 278.

Illf01 JJla/Infercnce.

32 r

I!l like manner, the conclusion in a real or concrpte
que
tion is foreseen and predicted rather than actually
attained; fore
een in tLe numùer a.nd direction of
accutnulatecl prelnissl's, ,vhich all converge to it, and
as the result of their combination, approach it more
nearly than any assignable difference, yet do not touch
it logically (though only not touching it,) on account
of the nature of its subject-matter, aud the delicate
and itnplicit character of at least part of the reasonings
on ,yhich it depenùs. It is by the strength, variety,
or multiplicity of premissps, ,vhich are only probable,
not by invincible syllogisms,-by objections overcome

by aùverse theories neutralized, by difficulties gradual1y
clearing up, by exceptions proving the rule, by un-
looked-for correlations found with receiyed truths, by
snspense and delay in the process issuing in trium-
phant reactions,-by all these ways, and nlany others,
it; is that the practised and experienced mind is able
to make a sure divination that a conclusion is inevit-
3 bIe, of which his lines of reasoning do not actually put
hirn in pos:-:e

ion. This is what is meant by a propo-
sition being "as good a.s proved," a conc1 u
ion as
undeniable" HS if it were proved," and by the reason:i
for it " amounting to a proof," for a proof is the limit
of converging probabilities.
It n1ay be added, that, ,vhereas the logical form of
this argull1Cnt, is, as I ha.ve already observed, indirect,
viz. that a, the conclu
ion cannot be otherwise," and
Butler says that an event is proved, if its antecedent

at could not in reason be
upposed to have happeneà
'i.l1de.
s it were true," and la.w-books tell us that the
y

.3
:2

11
/crt
Jl{e.

principle of circumstantial evidence is t.he ,'cducfio "ad
(dnalrdulIl, so N ewtoll too is forced to the sanle InoJe of
proof for tIle estahlishment of his lelnma, about prillle
and ultinu1Ìe ratios. " If you deny that they becolne
u1tin)at
ly equal," he
ay
, "let t helll be ultimately
unequal j" anJ the conðelluellce follows, ",yhich IS
ßgainst the
uppositioll."
Such being the character of the Inental process In
concrete reasoning, I should wi
h to adduce Rome good
instances of it in illustration, instances in which the
person reasoning confesses that he is reasoning on this
very process, as I have been stating it; but these are
difficult to find, fronl the very circumstance that the
process from f:i1"st to last is carried on as much ,vithout
words as ,vith them. However, I ,vill set down three
such.
1. First, an instance in physics. 'V ood, treating of
the ]a ws of Inotioll, thus dpscl'ibes the line of reasoning
by ,,,hich thè Ininù is certified of theln. "They are not
tndeed self-evident, nor do they adn1Ït of accurate pl
oof
by experiment, on account of the effectð of friction and
the air's reðistance, which cannot l:'utirely be reilloved.
r.l'hey are, however, constantly and invariably suggested
to our seuses, and they ngree with experÏ1nent, as far aR
experiment can go; and the more accurately the expel'i-
ments are made, and the gl'eater care we take to remove
all those ÏInpedilllents w'hich tenù to rencle}" the conclu-
sions erroneous, the lnore nearly do the expel'iments

oincide with these la,vs.
"rrheir tl'uth is also esta.blished upon a different
ground: from these general principles innulnerable

IllforJJz.zl II
fcrcllce.

"''')..,
"...

particular conclusions have been deducted; sOlneti nle

thp deductions are simple and itnn1ediate, sometilIles
they nru made by tedious and intricate operations;
yet tbey are all, without exception, consistent \vith
each other and with experiment. It follows thel'cby,
that the principles upon which the calculations are
founded are true." 3
'fhe reasoning of this passage (in which the uniformity
of the laws of nature is assumed) seems to me a good
illustration of what must be considered the principle
or form of an induction. The conclusion, which is its
scope, is, by its own confession, not proveù; but it
ought to be proved, or is as good as proved, aud a nlan
would be irrational .who did not take it to be virtually
proved; first, because the imperfections in the proof arise
out of its subject-matter and the nature of tbe ca.se, so
t hat it is proved interpretativè; and next, because in
the
ame degree in which these faults ill the sn bject-
luaUeI' are overCOlne here or there, are the involved
imperfections here or there of the proof remeùied; and
further, becau:,e, \vhen the conclusion is assulned as an
Lypothcsis, it throws light upon a lnultitude of collateral
fact
, accounting for them, and uniting theln together
i.n one whole. Con
i
tellcy is not alwa.ys the guarantee
of trnth; out there Inay be a consistency in a theory
so variou!3iy tried and exemplified as to lead to belief
in it, as reasonably as a ,vitness in a court uf law
ulay, after a severe cross-examination, satisfy and
assure judge, jury, and the whole court, of his :;imple
\,pracity.

I II l'tlcch:mics," p. 31.
y 2

3 2 4

Infercnce.

2. ..And frOln the courts of law ::;hall Iny second illus-
tration be taken.
A learned writer says, "In crilninal prosecutions, the
circumstantial eviùence shoulù be such, as to produce
nearly the same degree of certainty as that which arises
froin direct testinlony, and to exclude a rational proba-
hility of innocence." 4 By degrees of certainty be scenlS
to mean, together with many other writers, degrees of
proof, or approxiinations to,vards proof, and not certi-
tude, as a state ofilliud; and he says that no one shoulrl
be pronounced guilty on evidence which is not equiva-
lent ill weight to l1irect testiIllollY. So far is clear j but
what is Illpant by the pxpression "'j.otional probability"?
for tlH're can be no probability but 'v hat is rational. I
consider tl1ut thp c, exclu
ion of a rational probability"
nleallS the c. exc1u
ion of any
\'
gunlellt . in the man's
favour which has a rational claim to he called probable,"
or rather, "the rational exclusion of any suppo
ition
tbat he is inno
ent; " and" rational" is used in contra-
distinction to argulnentative, and means" resting on
illlplicit reasons," such as we feel, indeed, but which
for SOlne cau
e or other, because they are too subtle 01'
too circuitous, we cannot put into words so as to satisfy
logic. If this is a corret t account of his meaning, he
says that tbe evidence against a crinlinal, in order to Le
decisive of his guilt, to the satisfaction of our conscience,
must bear with it, along with the palpable argulnents for
that guilt, such a reasonableness, or body of illlplicit rea-
sons for it in addition, as nuty exclude any probability,
really such, that he is not guilty,-that is, it must ho

-I rhil1ipp...J " Law of EvÍlll'llce," Y01. i. p. 45ß.

II/f01 Jlla I IJlfi:r[ nce.

3 2 5

øn t'vidcnce free from anything' ohscure,
uspiciou
,
uunatural. or defective, such a
(in the judgnlent of a
prudent lua.n) would hinder that surnnlation ël,nd coa-
leBcPJ1ce of the evidence into a proof, ,vhich I have
conlpared to the running into a limit, in the case of
matbcIDatical ratios. Just as au algebraical sel'ies may
be of a nature never to terlninate or aùlnit of valuation,
as being the equivalent of an irrational quantity or surd,
so there may be some grave itnpel'fectiolls in a body of
reasons, explicit or implicit, which is directed to a
proof, sufficient to interfere ,vith its successful issue 01'
rE'solution, find to balk us with an irrational, that is, an
inùet
rnlinate, conclusion.
SJ HInch as to the principle of conclusions made
upon evidence in criminal cases; no\v let u
turn to
an instance of its app1ication in a particular instance.
Some years ago there was a murder cOlnlnitted, which
unusually agitated the popular mind, and the evidence
against the culprit ,vas necessarily CirCtllllstantial. At
the trial the J uùge, in ac1dre
sing the Jury, instl'ucted
them on the kin.] of evidence necessary for a verdict
of guilty. Of course he could not mean to say that
they must convict a man, of ,vhose guilt th('y ,vere
not certain, especially in a case in which two foreign

ountries, Germany and the American States, were
attentively looking OD. If thp Jury had any doubt,
that is, reasonable doubt, about the man's guilt, of
course they would give him the benefit of that doubt.
Nor could the certitude, which would be necessary for
au adverse verdict, be merely that which is sometime8
called a "nl'actical certitude," that is, a certitude in-

3 26

Infercllce.

deed, but a certitude, that it waS\ a (( duty," U expe-
dient," "safe," to bring in a verdict of guilty, Of
coursc the Judge spoke of what i8 called a " speculative
certitude," that is, a certitudo of the fact that t.he lnan
was guilty; the only question being, wha
evidence
\vas sufficient for t11e proof, for the certitude of that
f..let. rrhið is wha the Judgp 111e(Lnt; and these are
3lfiong t1lt.
remarks which, with this drift, he made
upon the occasion :-
After observing that by circumstantial evidence he
meant a case in which " the facts do not directly prove
tIle actual crime, but lead to the conclusion that the
prisoner comnlitted that crilue," he ,vent on to dis-
claim the sug-gcstion, Inade by counsel in the case, that
the Jury could not pronounce a verdict of guilty, unless
they \yere as much satisfied that the prisoner did the
dced as if they had seen him cOllilnit it. " That is not
the certainty," he said," ,vhich is required of you to
di
clmrge your duty to tho prisoner, ,vhose safety is in
your hanùs." Then he stated \V hat ,vas the" degree
of certa inty," that is, of certain ty or perfection of pI'oof,
"hich ,vas neces
ary to the question, " involving as it
did the life of the prisoner at the bar," -it ,vas
uch
as that" with which," hf' said, "you decide upon and
conclude your own most important transactions in life.
Take the facts ,vhich are proved before you, separate
those you be1ieve from those which you do not believe,
and all the conclusions that natura]]y and almost neces-
sarily result from those facts, you Inay confide in as
much as in the facts themselves. '
rhe case on the part
of the prosecution is the story of tbe murder, told by

Inj'Ol'JJlal Infercnce.

",,-
.)*'

the d
ffel'P1" witnessc
, who llnfolll the ci,.cum.f?fanCNt
Olle nfter anothel', aCl'ol'Jing to their occurrence, to-
gether with the gradual diseovery of some apparent
connexion between the property that was lost, and the
.
. b h . "
PO
S(\
SlOn OL It Y t e prisoner.
Now' here I observe, that ,vhereas the conclusion
which is cOllteluplated by the Judge, is what ll1a.v be
pronounceù (on the whole, alid considering all thing'5,
and judging reasonably) a proved or certain conclu-
sion, that is, a conclusion of the truth of the allegation
against the prisoner, or of the fact of his guilt, on the
other hand, the motiva constituting this reasonable,
rational proof, and this satisfactory certitude, needed
not, according to him, to be stronger than those on
which we prudently act on matters of important in-
t
rest to ourselves, that .is, probable reasons vie\ved in
their convergence ana combination. And whereas the
certitude is viewed by the Judge as following on con-
vcrgiug probabilities, ,vhich constitute a real, though
only a reasonable, not an argulnentative, pruof, so it
will he observed in this particular instance, that, in
illustration of the general doctrine which I have laid
down, thp process is one of " line upon line, and letter
upon letter," of various details accumulating and of
dpductiollS fitting into each other; for, in the Judge's
words, there was a story-and that not told right out
ana by one witncs
, but taken up anu "handed on from
witne
" to witness-gradually unfolded, and tending
to a proof, which of course might have been ten tin1es
stronger than it ,vas, but was still a proof for all tha.t,
a.nli sufficient for it..; concll1sion,-ju
t a
we see that

3 28

inference.

t,vo straight lines are meeting, and are certain thev will
meet at a given distance, though ,ve do not
ctually see
the junction.
3. The third instance I "ill take is one of a literary
cllaracter, the divination of the author
Lip of a certain
auonyu10us publicatioli, as suggested nlainly by in-
ternal evidence, a\ I find it in a critique ,vritten some
twenty years ago. In the extract which I make from
it, we may ob
erve the same steady march of a proof
toward8 a conclusion, ,vhich is (as it ,vere) out of
sight i-a reckoning, or a reasollable judgment, that
thp conclu
ion really is proved, anJ a persona] certi-
tude upon that judgulent, joincJ with a confession
that a logical argurnent coulJ not well be made out
for it, and that the various dptails in which the proof
consisted were in no small measure implicit and
inlpalpable.
"Rumour speaks uniformly and clearly enough in
attributing it to the pen of a particulal
individual.
Nor, although a. cursory reader n1ight well skim the
book without finding in it anything to suggest, &c.,
. . . . will it appear improbable to the more attentive
student of its internal evidence; and the improbability
,,-ill decrease n10re and more, in proportion as the
reader 1"S capable of judging and appreciating the
delicate, and at .first in'Cisible to'Urhes, ,,,hich limit, to
tll,ose u:ho understand them, the individuals who can
11ave written it to a very small number indeed. The
utr10st scepticism as to its authorship (which we dE)
fLot feel ourselves) cannot remove it farther from him
thaD to that of some one an10ng his ll10St intimate

11l.f01'JJla l IJljl'rCJlCe.

3 2 9

frÎf\nds j so t11at-, leaving others to discuss antecedent
probabilities," &c.
llere is a writer who professes to have no doubt at
a11 about the authol'
hip of a book,-which at the

a.lle time he cannot prove by mere argumentation
set down in ,,"ords. The reasons of his conviction
are too delicate-, too intricate; nay, they are in
part invisible; invisible, except to those who from
circumstances have an intellectual perception of what
does not appear to the nlany. TILey are per
ol1al to
the individual. This again is an instance, di
tinctly
set before us, of the particular mode in wbich the
mind progresses in concrete matter, viz. from merely
probable antecedents to the sufficient proof of a fact
or a truth} and} after the proof, to an act of certitude
about it.
I trust the foregoing remarks may not deserve the
blame of a needless refinelnent. I have thought it
incum bent on me to illu
tl'ate the intellectual process
by which we pass from conditional inference to uncon-
ditional assent; and I have had only the alternative
uf lying unùer the imputation of a paradox or of a
su btlt;.tr.

33 0

j JlJereJlce

3. X ATURAT
INFERENCE.

1 CO:\DIEXCED my remarks upon Inference by saying
that reasoning ordinarily sho,vs as a simple act, not as
a proce

, as if there were no medium interposed be-
t,yeell antecedent and consequent, and the transition
froIH one to the other were of the nature of an in-
stinct,-that is, the process is altogether unconscious
ana iInplicit. It is lleces
ary, then, to take sOlne
notice of this natural or Inaterial Inference, as an
existing phenonlenon of lnind; and that t.he IHore,
ùecause I shall thereby be illustrating and supporting
,,'bat I have been saying of the characteristics of
inferential processes as carrieù on in concreto Inatter,
and e:,pecially of their being the action of the n1Ïnd
itself, that is, by its ratiocinative or illative faculty,
not a mere operation as it the rules of arithrneti
.
I
ay, then, that our InO
t natural mode of reasuning
is, not fl'om propo
itions to propositions, but from things
to thing
, fr()ll1 concrete to concrete, from ,vholes to
wholes. "Thether the consequents, at which we arrive
from the antecedents 'with which we start, lead us to
assent or only to,yards assent, those antecedents conl-
111nnly are not recognized by us as subject
for analy-

J\ at II ral lufi:rcllce.

33 1

l
; nay, often are only indirectly recognized as ante-
ceùents at all. Not only is the inference ,,"ith it
pro-
c ..
s ignorea, but the allteceùent abo. To the 1ulnd
itself the reasoning is a
illlple divination or preJic-
tion; as it literally is in the instance of enthusiasts,
who 1uistake their own thoughts for inspirations.
This i
the mode in which ,ve ordinarily rea
on,
dealing "with things directly, and as they stand, one by
one, ill the concrete, with an intrinsic anù personal
power, not a conscious adoption of an artificial iu':,tru-
llleut or expeL1iellt; ana it is especially exeluplified
hoth in uneducated men, and in men of genius,-in
those whu know nothing of intellectual aids anù rules,
and in those ","ho care nothiug for them,-in thuse
who are either" ithout or above u1ental disciplinè. _\.s
true poetry is a
pontaneous outpouring of thought,
ana therefore belongs to ruùe as well as to gifted
Tnint1
, whereas no one becolnes a poet 111el'cly by the
canl)ns of criticisln, so this unscientific reasoning,
being sometilnes a natural, uncultivated faculty, some-
tiuIPS approaching to a gift, sOlnetiule:s an acquired
ha.bit and second llaturE?, has a higher source than
logich\ rule,-" na
citur, non fit." "Then it is charac-
terizeù by precision,
ubtlety, promptitude, and truth,
it is of COllrSl-- a gift and a ral-ity: in ordinary InÌ1111s
it is bia

ed and degraded by prejudice, pas
ion, auù
self-interest; hut still, after all, this lli"Únatiûn COlne
hy
nature, anù belongs to all of us in a measure, to women
Inore than to lHen, hitting or n1issing, as the Chse may
he, but with a SUCCe::>S on the "'hole sufficient to show'
that there is a method in it. though it be inlplieit.

33 2

Illíerellce

A peasant \yho is ,,"cather-wise Inay yet be simply U11-
aLle to a

ign intelligiLle rea.sons why he thinks it 'will
be fine to-mOlTO\V; anù if he attelllpts to do so, he
lJlaY give reasons wide of the mark; but that \vill not
,,"eaken his own confiùence in Lis prediction. His miu(}
does not proceec1 step by step, but he feels all at once
anù together the fo 'ce of various COlubine(l phenoillella,
though he is not cOllscious of theine ..,Again, there are
phy
icians who excel in tLe diagHo
i8 of cOIn plaints ;
though it does not follow frolll thi
, that they could
dpft'Illl their dcci
ion in a particular case against a,
'Ll'other physician who di
pnted it. They are guided
by natural acutelle
s and varied experience; they have
their own idiosyncratic InoJes of oùscn"illg, generaliz-
ing, and concluding; \Vhell qucstioned, they can but
rest on their own authority, or appeal to the future
eVl'nt. III a. popular novpl,6 a lawyer is introduced,
\vbo "\vouid kllO\V, almost by instinct, \\ hether an
accused person was or was not guilty; and he had
already ppreeived by instinct" that the heroine was
guilty. "I've no doubt she's a clever woman," he
said, and at once natlled an attorney practising at the
Old Bailey.
o, again, experts and detectives, when
f\lnployed to investigate mysteries, in cases 'whether of
the civil or criIninal la\v, discern and follow out indi-
cation
which prolnise solution with a sagacity inconl-
prehensible to ordinary men. A parallel gift is the
intuitive perception of character possessed by certain
TIlen, wbile others are as destitute of it, as others
ngain are of an ear for music. 'Vhat common measure

5 "Orley Parm."

1\' aillral !llje1'cl1ce.

"' 3 '"
oJ ..)

is there hetween the jlHlgments of t110
P w.l10 have tlti

intuition, ana t1to
c who have not? 'Vhat but the
c\?eut can :settle any difference of opinion which occurs
in their e::;tÏ1nation of a third person? 'rhese are
in::;tances of a natural capacity, or of nature Ï1nprovHl
by practic
and habit, enahling the n1inù to pas

prolnptly froIn one set of fact
to another, not only, I

ay, without cOllðcious media, but 'without conscious
antccedents.
Son1etitnes, I say, this illative faculty is nothing
short of genius. Such seems to have been Newton's
perception of truth
Inatheluatical and physical, though
proof was ab
ent. At least that is the in1pression left
on 1ny own Iniud by various stories which are told of
him, one of which was stated in the public papers a
few years ago. c. Professor Sylvester," it was saiù,
(c bas just discovered the proof of Sir I
aac Newton's
rule for ascertaining the imaginary roots of equations.
. . . rrhis rule ha:-; been a (J'ordian-knot arnong alge-
braists for thp last century and a half. The proof
heing wnnting, authors becamo a:shanled at length of
advancing a proposition, the evidence for which rested
on no otLer fÚUllùation than belief in
ewton's saga-
city." 6
Such is the gift of tIle calculating boys who now and
then lnak
their appearance, who speIn to have certain
short-cuts to conclusion
, which tbey cannot explain to
themselves. SOlne are s.tiù to have been able to de-
termine uff-hand what numbers are prime,- nUlnbl'rs
1 think, up to se\.en places.

CI Guardian. J nne 28. Ib6;).

.., .., . t
.,,,..,.

lllJerCllle.

In a very different subject-nuttter,
apoleun sup.
plic::; us with an instance of a parallel gt'llins in reason-
ing, by which he ,vas enabled to look at things in his
own province, and to interpret thenl truly, apparently
,vithout any ratiocinative nledia. "By long experi-
ence," says Alison, "joined to great natural quickness
aud precision of eye, he had acqnit
ed the- power of
judging, ,,-ith extrd.ordinary accuracy, both of the
amount of the enelny's force oppu
ed to hirn in the
fipld, and of the probable result of the n10vements,
e\'cn the Inost cOlnplicateù, going forward in the oppo-
site armies. . . . lie looked around hiln for a little
while with his telescope, and inl1nediately forilled a
clear cOllception of the position, forces, and intention
of the ,vhole hostile array. In this ,vay he could,
with
urpri.5ing accuracy, calculate in a fen p nJÍnutes,
according to what he could see of their fOl'lllatioll and
the extent of the ground which they occupied, the
lllUnel'ical force of armies of GO,OOO or 80,000 lnen;
and if their tl'OOPS "pere at all scattered, he knew at
once how long it ,,'ould requirp for thmn to concen-
trate, and ho,v n1allY hon 1'8 1l11lSt elapse before they
could Blake their attack."";
It is difficult to avoid calling such clear presenti-
n1ellts by the nan1e of instinct; and I think they may
so be called, if by instinct be undel'stood, not a natural
sense, one and the saIne in all, and incapable of culti-
vation, but a perception of fact
without assignable
media of perceiving. There are those ,vho can tell at
Ollce ,vhat i
conducive or injurious to their welfare,
: History, vol. x. pp. 2SG, 287.

Natural IJlfcreJlce.

..,"t..
.).):>

who are their fricnd
, ,,,ho their eneu1ips, ,vhat is to
happl\H to theJn, and how they are to n]eet it. Presence
of 1nind, fatholning of motives, talent for repartee, are
instances of this gift. As to that divination of per-
sonal danger which is found in the young and inno-
cent" we find a description of it in one of Scott's
romance
, in which the heroine, "without being able
to di"cover what was wrong either in the scenes of
unu
ual luxury ,vith ,,'hich :she was surronnòed, or in
the tuanuer of her hostess," is said nevertheless to
have felt" an instinctive apprehension that all was not
right,-a feeling in the human mind," the author
proceeil
to say, "allied perhaps t.o that
eI1se of
danger, which anilnals exhibit, when placed in the
vicinity of the natural enen1ies of their race, and
which makes birds co,ver \vhen tbe hawk is in the air,
alid heasts tremble when the tiger is abroad in the
desert." S

\. religious biography, lately publis1]ed, affords us
an in
tance of this spontaneous perception of truth in
the province ot revealed doctrine. "Her firm f:.tith,"

ays the Author of the Preface, "Wa::i
o vivid in its
character, th
i it was almost like an intuition of the
entire prospect of revealed truth. Let an error again:st
faith be concealed under expressions however ab
tru
eJ
and her sure instinct found it out. I have tried this
experiluent repeatedly. She tnight not be able to
sepnrate the heresy hy analysi:-;, but she saw, and felt,
c,nd suffered tronl its presence." 9

8 -, Peveril of the P,'ak."
It ,. L:fe of Mother 'lh1"!:' ""( t)! Hallahan," p. vii.

""""6
,:).)

Infer t!1lC e.

And so of the great fundanlental truths of religion,
natural ana revealed, anù as regards the nlass of reli-
gious tnen: these truths, doubtless, nlay be proved
and defended by an array of invincible logical argu-
ments, but such i8 not cOlnmonly the method in which
those san1l' logical al'glllUcllts lllake their way into our
minds. Thp gro\luds, on 'v hich "
e bold the divine
origin of the Church, and the previous truths ,vhich
are taught us by nature-the being of a Goù, and the
imlnortality of the soul-are felt by nlost 111en to be
recondite and iJnpalpable, in proportion to their depth
and reality. ...---\,8 we cannot see out"selves, so ,ve cannot
well see illtcllectuaì 11lotives which are so intilnately
ours, and which 8pring up fron1 the very constitution
of our Inillds; and \vhile 'Ye l'efu
e to adJnit the notion
that religion ha
not irrefragable argulnents in its
behalf, still the attelnpts to argue, on tbe part of an
individual hie et nunc, ,viH sOlnetilnes only confuse his
apprehension of saLTed objects, and subtracts froIll his
devotion quite as lunch as it adds to his knowleJ.ge.
'fhis is found in the case of other perceptj(Jn
besides
that of faith. It is tbe case of nature against art: of
course, if possiblp, nature and art should be COBl bined,
Lut souletimes they ar' incompatible. 'rhus, in the
case of calculating boys, it is said, I know not ,,"ith
what truth, that to teacb them the ordinary rules of
arithtnetic is to endanger or to destroy the extraor-
dinary endowment. .dud men who have the gift of
plnying on an instrument by car, are sometimes afraid
to learn hy l
ule, lest they should lose it.
There is an analogy, in this respect, between Ratioci.

N atUJ al IJljëreJlce.

337

nation and 1!cluory, though the latter may be exercised
withouT antecedents or Illedia, whereas the forDler
requires thmn in itb very iùea. At the sanle tinle HS'iO-
ciation ha
so nluch to do with memory, that we may
nut unfiârly consider Illelnory, as well as rea:<0ning, as
depending 011 certain previous conditions. "Triting, as I
hase already oh
erved, is a 1nenloria tf'chnicn, or logic of
IllPlnory. X ow it 'will be found, I think, tha,[i inc1is-
p('u
able as is the llse of leLters, still, in fact, we weaken
our nlelnory in proportion as we habituate ourselves to
conlmit all that we \vish to remember to memorandums.
Of cour::)c in proportion as our memory is weak or over-
burdened, and thereby treacherou
, we cannot act other-
wise; but in the case of nlen of strong memory in any
particular su bject-nlatter, as in that of dates, all artificial
expeùipnts, from the" Thirty days ha
8eptenlber," &c.,
to the more formidable forrnulas which are offereLl for
their use, are as di(ticul
and repulsive as the natural
exerci"o of Inenlory is healthy and easy to theul; just
a:i tlw clear-h0adpJ and pra<:tical reasoner, who see..,
conclusions at a g1ance, is uncolllfortable under the drill
of a logician, being oppre

ed antl halnpcrecl, as David
in bauI's annonr, by ,vhat is intendeù to be a benefit.
I need not say 1110re on this part of the
ubject.
,rhat is called reasoning is often only a peculiar and
persouallnode of abstraction, anlI so far, like memory,
nmy 1e
aid to exi
t -without antecedents. It i
a power
of looking at things in some particular a
pect, aod
of ùetcl'lnining their internal and external relations
thereby. Anù ac
ording to the subtlety and ver::;atility
of their gift, are men able to read what comes before
z

"" 8
""

Inference.

thenl j u
tly, variously, anù fruitful1y. Hence, too, it is,
that in our intercourse \vith others, in husiness an<l
family nlatters, in social and political transactions, a
word or an act on the part of another is son1ctilnes a
suJdcn reye]ation; light bl"l'aks in upon us, and our
whole jut1g1nent of a course of events, or of an under-
taking, is chauged. "\Ve determine correctly or other-
wise, as it nlay be j but in either case, it is by a
ense
proper to oursel'\es, for another nlay
ee the object

which "e are thus using, anù give them quite a different
interpretatiun, ina
n1uch as he abstracts another set
of general nut ions from those same phenomena which
present thembclvcs to us also.
"\Yhat I have been saying of Ratiocination, may be
said of Ta
te, anù is confirnled by the obvious analogy
oetween the t\vo. Taste, skill, invention in the fine
nrt
-and so, again, discretion or judgment in conduct
-are exerted spontaneously, when once acquired, and
could not gi\.c a clear account of thelnselves, or of their
Dlode of proceeding. 'J.1hey do not go by rule, though
to a certain point their exercise may be analyzed, and
may take the shape of an art or Inethod. But these
parallels \vill come before us presently.
And now I conle to a further peculiarity of this
na tural anù ..-pontaneous ratiocination. This faculty, as
it is actually fouIld in us, proceeding from concrete to
concrete, is attached to a definite suùjcct-lnatter, accord-
ing to tbe indiyidua1. In spite of Aristotle, I ,vill not
allow that genuine reasoning is an instrumen tal art; and
in spite of Dr. Johnson, I will as
ert that genius, as far
AS it is manifested in ratiocination, is not equal to all

Pol a lural .II?! erCllce.

33

undertakings, but has its own peculiar subject-matter.
and i
circun1scribed III its range. No oue ,voulù for
a, moment expect that because Newton and Napoleon
both had a genius for ratiocination, that, in consequence,
Napoleon could have generalized the principle of gravi-
tation, or N e,vton have seen how to concentrate a
hundred thou,-,aud men at Austerlitz. 'fhe ratiocinative
faculty, then, as founù in individuals, is not a general
instrument of knowledge, but has its province, or is
w hat may be caned dppartmental. It is not so nluch
one faculty, as a collection of similar or analogous facul-
ties under one name, there being really as nlany facul-
ties as there arp distinct subject-matters, though in the
same person sOlne of them may, if it so happen, be
united,-nay, though some Inen Lave a sort of literary
powpr in arguing in all subjoct-lnatters, de oììlni scibili,
a power extensive, but not deep or real.
rrhis surely is the conclusion, to which ,ve are brought
by our orùillal'Y experience of men. It is almost pl'O-
\'erbial that a hal'll-headed mathcluatician Ilia)" have no
head at all for what is called historical evidence. Suc-
ces
ful experilnentalist
need not have talent for legal
research or pleading. ...i shre,vd man of business luay
be a bad arguer in philosophical questions. Able states-
IDcn an<l politicians have been Lefore now eccentric or
supen:;titious in their religious views. It is notorious
how ridiculous a clever tnan lllay tnake himself, who
ventures to argue with profe!sscd thpologians J critic::5,
or gl'ologi
ts, though without po
itive defects in knuw-
ledge of his subject. Priestley, great in electricity and
chemistry, 'vas but a poor ecclesiastical historian. rfhe
z 2

34 0

Inference.

Author of thp 2\rinute Philosopher is also the Author of
th
Analyst. Newton wrote not only his" Principia,"
but his COlnn1ents on tbe Apocalypse; Cromwell, ,,'hose
actions savourcd of the bolde
t logic, was a confused
speaker. In these, and various similar instances, the
defect lay, not so much in an ignorance of facts, as in an
inability to hand1e those facts suitably; in feeble or
pervcr:-:e modes of abstraction, observation, comparison,
analysi
, inference, which nothing could have obviated,
but that ,vhich ,,'as ,vantiug,-a specific talent, and a
ready exercise of it.
I have alreaJy referred to tbe faculty of memory in
illustration; it win serve me also here. "\Ve can form
an abstract idea of melnory, and call it one faculty,
,vhich has for its subject-InattCl" all past facts of our
pel'i'ûnal experience; but this is really only an illusion;
for thet'e is no such gift of univer
al memory. Of
cùurse ,,-e all remelnber in a ,yay, as we reason, in all
subj('ct-lnatte
's; but I au) speaking of remelnbering
rightly, as I spoke of rca
onjng rightly. In real fact
mcnlory, as a t:dellt, is not one indivisible faculty, but a
power of retainiug and recalling the past in this or that
departIllcnt of our cxperipllce, not jn any w hate\?er.
rr",o Incmories, which are both special1y retentive, Inay
also be incollHncnsurate. Some men can recite t.he
canto of a poem, or good part of a speech, after once
reading it, but have no head for dates, Others have
great capacity for the vocabulary of languages, but
recollect nothing of the SOlan occurrences of the day or
year. Others never forget any statement which they
ha\
e read, and can give volume and page, but lut\?e no

Natural lUll.' rence.

34 1

memory for faces. I ha\Te known those who coulù,
without effoJ,t, run tlu"ough the succession of days on
which Easter fell for years back; or could
ay where
they were, or what tht>y were tioing, on a given day, in
It hi'l\n year; or could recollect accurately the Chl'i:-;-
tian n:unes of friends and strangers; or could enumerate
in exact order the names on all the shops from IIyde
Park Corner to the Dank; or had so mastered the U ni-
Yel'
ity Calender as to be able to bear an examination in
the academical hi
türy of any ::.\I.A. taken at randoll.
...\nd I helievè in most of these ca
e
the talent, in its
exceptional character, did not extend beyond several
classes of subjects. 'fhere are a hundred memorie::" as
there are a hundred virtues. Virtue is one indeed in the
n b
tract,; but, in fact, gentle and kind natures are not
therefore heroic, and prudent and self-controlled ntinds
need not be open-handed. ...tt the utmost such virtue
is one only in posse; as developed in the concrete, it
takes the shape of species which in no sense imply each
(.
hcr.
So is it with Hatiocination; and as we should betake
our
elves to Newton for physical, not for theological
conclusions, and to 'Vellington for his military expe-
rience, llot for stateSIl1all
hip, so the maxi In holus good
gencral1y, cc Cuiqne in arte suâ credendum est:" 01', to
u
e the gl'anù woròs of .Ari
totle, " \Ve are bound to
give heed to thp ullderllonstrated sayings and opinions
of the experi(:>nced iLnd aged, not less than to demon-
strations; becau::;e, from their having the ('ye of ex-
perience, they behold the principles of things." 1 In-

1 Eth.
icom. vi. 11, fin.

34 2

IllferCll{t:.

8tead of trusting logical science, we must trust persons,
namely, those who by long acquaintance with their
subject have a right to judge. And if we wish our-
selves to share in their convictions and the grounds of
thenl, we n1ust follow their history, and learn as they
have learned. "T e nlust take up their particular subject
as they took it up, beginning at the beginning, give
oursel veS to it, depend on practice and experience
more th1.n on reasoning, and thus gain that mental
insight into truth, whatever its subject-matter may
be, which our masters have gained before us. By
foUowing this course, ,ve may make ourselves of
their number, and then we rightly lean upon our-
selves, directing ourselves by our own moral or
inteHectual judgment, not by our skill in argumen-
tation.
rThis doctrine, stated in substance as above by the
great philosopher of antiquity, is more fully expounded
in a passage ,vhich he elsewhere quotes from Hesiod.
"Best of all is he," says that poet, Cl who is ,vise by
his own ,vit; next best he who is wise by the ,vit of
others; but whoso is neither able to see, nor willing
to hear, he is a good-for-nothing fello,v." Judgment
then in all concrete matter is the architectonic
faculty; and ,,"hat loay be ca11ed the Illative Sense,
or right judgment in ratiocination, is one brancI1
of it.

CHAP1'ER IX.

THE IT..ILA'rIVE SE
SE.

:illy object in the foregoing pages has ùeen) not to form
8, theol'Y which lnay account for tho:se phenomena of the
intelJect of which they treat, viz. those which charac-
terize infp.rcnce and assent, but to ascertain ,vhat is the
matter of fact as regards them, that is, ,,'hen it is that
assent is given to propositions ,vhich are inferred, and
under what circumstances. I have never had the
thought of an attelnpt which in Ine would be alnbitiol1s
and which has failed in the hands of others,-if that
attempt nlay fairly be cfllled un::;ucce
sful, whiLh,
though made by the acute
t Ininds, has not succeeded
in convincing opponents. E
pecially have I found my-
self unequal to anteceùcnt reasoning:; iu the instance
of a Inatter of fact. There are those, who, arguing
lì priuri, lllaintain, that, since ex]>prience lC'ad::; by
y1ìo-
gi
nl only to proba11ilitieR, certiÜHle is e\'er a. mi
take.
'rhere are otherR, 'who, while they dcny this cOl1c1usioll,
grant the à p,.iOl'i principle aS5ulned in the argulneut,
aUtl in consequence are obliged, in order to vindicate
the certainty of our knowledge, to have recourse to
the hypothesis of intuition
, intellectual fornls, and the

344

The Illative Sense.

like, wl1Ïch belong to us by nature, and nH1Y be con..
siùered to elevate our experience into something more
than it is in itself. ]
arllestly nlaintaining, as I would,
with this latter school of philosophers, the certainty
of knowledge, I think it enough to appeal to the
COUlmon voice of mankind in proof of it. That is to
be accounted a norIllal operation of our nature, ,vhich
Dlen in genera] do actually instance. 'rhat is a law of
our minds, ,,,hicb is exemplified in action on a large
scale, whetber å priori it ought to be a law or no.
Our hoping is n proof that hope, as such, is not an ex-
travagance; and our po::--sc
:Ûon of certitude is a proof
that it is not a ,vpnkness or an absurdity to be certain.
liow it comes about that ,ve can be certain is not my
business to detcrn1Íne; for nle it is sufficient that cer-
titude is felt. 1'his is what the schoolmcn, 1 believe,
call treating a
ubject in facto ess p , in contrast with in
fi{'ri. Had 1 atteInpted the latter, 1 should have been
falling into metaphysics; but IllY aim is of a practical
character, such as that of Butler in his Analogy, with
this difference, that he treats of probability, doubt,
expedience, anù duty, ,vhereas in these pages, without
excluding, far from it, the que
tion of duty, I ,vould
confine Illyself to the truth of things, and to the mi d's
certitude of that truth.
Certitude i
a mental state: certainty is a quality of
propositions. Those propositions I call certain, which
are buch that I am certain of theln. C
rtitude is not a
passive impression made upon the mind from without,
by argumentative compulsion, but in all concrete ques-
tions (nay, even in abstract, for though the reasoning is

The Illative Scnse.

345

abstract, the mind which judges of it is concrete) it is
nn active recoguitioll of propositions as true, such a
it
is the duty of each inùividual hirn
elf to exercise at the
bidding of reason, and, rwLen rea
on forbids, to 'withhold.
AIJd r
a
un never bids us be certain except on an abso-
lute pl'uuf; and such a proof can never be furnished to
us by the logic of wortls, for as certitude is of the nliud,
so is the act of inference which leads to it. ]
'
ery one
who l'Ca
Oll:', is his O',Vll centre; and no expedient for
attaining a COUUHUll 111eU-;l1re of Ininds can reyerse this
truth ;-but then the question follows, is there any
lritcrioJ1 of the accuracy of an inference, such as 111ay he
()ur warrant that certitude is rightly elicited in favour
.of the proposition ilJfprred, since our warrant cannot,
tiS I haye said, be
Ci(-,lltific ? I 11ave already
aid that
the bole and filial juùgmeut on the' \"alitlity of au
inflre11"8 in concrete Inatter is c0111mitted to the per-
60na1 action of tlIp ratiovinative faculty, the perfec-
tion or virture of which I have called the Illative Sense,
n usP of the word .,
ellse " parallel to our use of it in
tc gootl sense," " COIDlnOIl sense," a " sense of heauty;"

c. ;-antl I own I do not see any way to go farther
than this in answer to tbe qne
tion. Howe\"er, I can
at least explain Iny nleaning n10re fully; and therefore
I will now speak, fìr
t of the sanction of the Illative
bel.l
eJ next of its nature, and then of its range.

3
6

The lilati'i'e Sense.

.

1. THE SANCTION OF THE ILLATIVE SENSE.

'VI<: are in a world of facts, and we use them j for there
is nothing else to use. ,Yo do not qnarrel with them,
but we take them as they are, and avail ourselvps of
,,'hat they can do for us. It ,vould be out of place to
denutllCl of fire, ,vater, earth, and air theil' credcntials,
so to say, fur acting npon us, or 1nillistering to us. \'1 e
call them eleluellts, and turn them to account, and
Inake the lnost of then1. "\V e
peculate on t1e111 at our
leisure. But what we are stillles::; able to doubt about
or al1nul, at our leisure or not, is that which is at once
their counterpart and their ,vitnesg, I 111ean, ourselves.
'Y' e are cl)u
cious uf the objects of external nature, Dnd
we reflect and act upon tbem, aud this consciotlsness,
reflection, and action we call our rationality. _\.nd as
we use the (so called) eluments without first criticizing
what we have no command over, so is it much more un-
meaning in us to criticize or find fault with our own
nature, which is nothing else than we ourselves, instead
of using it according to the use of which it ordinarily
adn1Ïts. Our being, with its faculties, mind and body,
is a fact not adluitting of question, all things being of
necessity referred to it, not it to other things.

The Sallctloll of Ihe 1/laliz'e Sellse. 34-ï

If I Inay not assume that I exist, and in a particular
war, that is, ,vith a particular Inental constitution, I
have nothing to speculate about, anù had Letter let
speculation alone. Such as I
lln, it is DIY all; this
is IHY essential stand-point, and Illust be taken for
granted j otherwise, thought is but au idle amuse-
ment" not worth the troll ble. Thl
e is nn medium
between using D1Y facult.ies, as I have them, and
flinging Dlyself upon the external ,vorld according
to the ralldonl inlPulse of the moment, as
pray upon
the surface of tLe ".aves, and siInply forgetting that
I
nn.
I am what I arn, or I am nothing. I cannot t.hink,
reflect, or jUdgB about nlY heiug, without starting
from the ,"el'v point which I aim at concluding. 1tly
ideas are all asslllnptions, and I 3111 ever Dloviug in a
circle. I cannot avoid being sufficient for myself, for
I cannot nlake Inyself anyt 1,iDg else, and to change me
is to dcstruy Ine. If I do nut use lllj"self, I have no
other self to 11se. :\Iy only ùusilless is to ascertain
w]lat 1 am, in order to puW it to use. It is enough for
the prouf of t11e value and authority of any function
which I possess, to be able to pronouncp that it is
natural. \Vhat I have to ascertain is the laws under
whi
h I Jive.
ly first e]elnentary Ie
son of duty is
t!tat of resigl1atiun to the law
ûf lny nature, whatever
they are; Iny first di
()bedience i
to be impatient at
wlu..t I aIn, and to indulge an ambitious aspiration
after what I cannot be, to cherish a distrust of my
powers, and to desire to change laws which are identical
\\ ith ll)yself.

34 8

lÏze Illative
'eJlse.

Truths such HS these, which are too obvious to be
called irresistible, are illu....trated by ,,-hat we see in
universal nature. Every being is in a trup sel1se
uf.
ficicllt for itself, so as to be able to fulfil its particuln r
needs. It is a. genel'al 1.1w that, whatever is found as
a function or an aÌ'"ribute of any cla
s of beings, or is
natural to it, is in-its Sl1b
t:111Cl' suitable to it, and
suL
crves its existen
e, alld cannot be rightly re-
garded as a fault or enormity. So being could endure.
of which the constitneut parts ,vere at war with each
other. ..L\nd Inore than this; tllere is that principle of
vitality in (>very being, .which is of a sanative and
l'e:storative character, and which brillgs an its parts
and functions together into one whole, and is ever
repelling and correcting the mischiefs ,vhich befall it,
whether frOIH within or without, while showing no
tel1Ùellcy to cast otf its belongings a
if foreign to its
nature. 'rhe brute anilllais are found severalJy ,vith
linlbs and organs, habits, instincts, appetites: sur-
roundings, which play together for the safety and
,velfare of the ,y hole; and, after all exceptions, lllay
be said each of theln to have, after its own kind, a
perfection of nature.
lan is the highest of the
animals, and more indeed than au animal, as having a
mind; that is, he has a complex nature different from
theirs, ,vith a 11igher ailn and a specific perfection; but
still the fact that other beings find their good in the
u
e of their particular nature, is a reason for antici-
pating that to use duly our own is our interest as well
as our nece
sity.
"That is the peculiarity of our nature, in contrast

The Sall{tioJl of the Iltative SCllse. 349

with the inferior aniTllal-::, aruund us ? It is that, though
Ulan cannot change what he is born with, he is a being
ùf progre
s with relation to his perfectioll and charac-
teristic gooù. Other beings are cOInplcl e froln their
f1r
t existencl), ill that line of excellenco which is
allottf'd to thl'lll; hut Ulan begins with nothing realizel1
(to n
e the word), al1(l he has to make capital for hiln-
self by the exercise of those faculties which are his
naturaì inheritance. rrhus he gradually advances to
the fulnes
uf hi
original destiny. K or is this pro-
gl'e:::;
111cchanlcal, nor i
it of necessity; it is comn1Ïtted
to the personal efforts of each individual of the species;
each uf us has the prerogative of cOlnpl
ting his in-
choate nll<l ruùImental nature, uud of developing his
own perfeetion out of the living eleillents "with \vhich
his mind began to be. It is his gift to be the creator
uf hi
own sufficiency; and to 1e emphatically self-
lIIaùe. rrhis is the law of ilis being, which he cannot
escape; an(l ,,'hatever is involved in tha.t law he i5
bound, or rathpr he is carried on, to fulfil.
Anù here 1 am brought to the bearing of these re-
1l1arks upon lIlY 811bject. For this la\y of progl'ess is
carried out l)y Ineans of the acquisition of knowledge,
of which inference and as
ent ar
the in1mediate in-
stl'Ulnellts.
llpposing, th(::n, the advancement of our
natnre, both in our
elves indiviòually and as regards
the hUlnan family, is, to everyone of us in his place, a
sacreJ ùuty, it follows tha,t that duty is intilnate]y
bonnù up with the right use of these t\vo main instru-
Inent
of fulfilling it. .And a:-. we do not gain the-
\::nowleùge of the law of progress by any à priori vie\\

35 0

'lite Illatiz'e SC1lse.

of Inan, but. by looking at it as tIle inteJ'pretation
which is provided by hilu
elf on a large scale in the
ordinary action of his intellcctual nature, so too 've
must 8ppeal to himself, as a fact, and not tt) any ante-
cedent theory, in order to find 'what is the law of his
mind as rpgal'ds the two faculties in question. If then
snch an appeal doe
bear m
out in deciding, as I have
done, that the course of inference is ever Illore or less
obscure, while assent is ever distinct and definite, anò
yet that ,,
hat is in its nature thUb absolute aoe
, in
fact fùllow upon 'wllat in ouhvürd Inanifestation is thus
complex, indirect, and J"ccondite, what is left to ns but
to take things as they are, and to resign ourselves to
,vllat we find? that is, instead of devising, ,vha t cnnnot
be, some sufficiont
cience of reasoning which Jnay
cOlnpel certitude in concrete conclusions, to confess
that there is no ultilnate test of truth besides the tes..
timony born to truth by the mind itself, and that this
phenùmellon, perplexing as we may find it, is a nornlal
and inevitable characteristic of the mental constitution
of a being like nlan on a stage such as the world.
Ills progress is a living growth, not a mechanism;
and its instruments are nlcntal acts, not the formulas
anù contrivances of language.
"\Ve are accustomed in this day to lay great stress
upon the harmony of the universe; anù we have well
learneà the Inaxinl so powerfully inculcated by our
own English philosopher, that in our inq l1iries in to its
laws, we 11lust sternly destroy all idols of the intellect,
and subdue nature by co-operating with her. Kno\\"-
\edge is power, for it enables us to use eternal prin-

The S(!llctioJ/, of the Il/ative Sense. 35 I

ciplf's which we cannot alter. So also is it in that
luicroco::nll, the human mind. Lpt us follo,v Bacon
luore closely than to distort its faculties according to
tho delnands of an ideal optin1Ís'u, instead of looking
out for Jl10des of thùught proper to our nature, and
faithfully observing thmn in our intellectual exerci
es.
Of course I do not stop here. .Ås the structure of
the universe speaks to us of IIim ,vho made it, so the
laws of the n1Ïnd are the expression, not of nlere con-
stitutc<l order, but of His will. I should be bound by
them even \vere they not IIis laws; but since one of
th
ir very functions is to tell me of Hiln, they throw
a reflex light upon themselves, and, for resignation to
my destiny, I substitute a cheerful concurrence in an
overruling Providence. 'Ye may gladly welcome such
diffieu1ties as are to be found in our Inelltal constitu-
tion, :nlll in the interaction of our faculties, if \ve are
ahle to feel that He gave them to us, and lIe can over-
rule them for us. 'Ve may securely take them as they
are, and use theln as we find thenl, It is He who
t('acl1es us all knowledge; and the way by which we
acquire it is Iris \vay. He varies that way accor<.hng
to the subject-nu1tter; but whether He has set before
us in our particular pursuit the way of observation
or of experimen t, of
peculation or of research, of
ùCJnf)nstration or of probability, ,vhether we are
inquiring into the systelll of the universe, or into the
elements of Blatter and of life, or into the history of
human society and past tilHes, if 've take tbe way
proper to our subject-matter, we have His blessing
upon us, and shall find, besides abundant matter for

""2
.')J

The Illlltiz'e SeJlse.

n1cre opiniC'n, the materials in due measure of proof
9.nd as"ent.

.tlld e:--pecialIy, by this disposition of things, shall
we learn, as regards religious ana ethicnl inquiries, bow
little 'vo can effect, however much 1\"e exert ourselves,
,,-ithout that Blessing; for, as if 011 set purpose, lIe
has Inac1e thi
path of thought rugged ana circuitous
above otlu'r investigations, that the very di
cipline in-
flicted on our 1l1ilJds in finding HÍI11, may mou ld them
iutu due devotion to IIin1 when lIe is found. "\T erily
'rhou art a hidden Goù, the Go(l of I
rae], the Raviour,"
is the vcry ht'v of Ilis dc-dings ,vith us. Certainly we
need a dUè into the labyrinth ,,,hieb is to lead us to
IIill); ana \vho alllon,go us can hope to seize upon the
true starting-points of thought for "that enterprise, and
upon all of th(\ln, ,vho is to underst'lnd their right
direction, to fullow them out to their just lin1Ït
, aud
duly to cstiu1ate, adjust, and combine the various
rea
oning:; in 1vhich they issue, so as safely to arrive
at what it is worth any lahour to secure, ,vithout a
special ilhul1 ination frolll Himself? Such are the
dealing
of "\rïSÙOJll with the elect soul. "She will
bring upon hill1 fpar, and drcad, and trial; and She
will torture hinl with tIt tribulation of lIeI' discipline,
tin She try hiln by Her laws, and trust his soul. Then
She win streng-then him, and make IIer way straight
to him, ana give hÏ1n joy."

T/lP i\TatUl c oj the Illative Sense. 353

2, THE NATURE OF THg ILLATIVE SENSE.

TT is the mind that reasons, and that controls its own
reasonings, not any technical apparatus of wort1s and
propositions. This power of judging and conchuling,
when in its perfection, I call the Illative Sense, and I
shan best illustrate it by referring to parallel faculties,
which we commonly recognize without difficulty.
For instance, how does the mind fulfil its function
of supreme direction and control, in matters of duty,
social intercourBe, and ta
te? In all of these separate
nctions of the intellect, the individual is supren1e, and
responsible to himself, nay, under circumstances, may
be justified in opposing himself to the judgment of
the whole world; though he uses rules to his great
aJvantage, as far as they go, and is in consequence
bound to use theIne As regards llloral duty, the sub-
ject is fully considcretl in the well-kno\vn ethical
treatises of
\ ristotle. 1 lIe calls the faculty which

.
1 Thollgh Aristotle, in his Xicomnchean Ethics, speaks of cpp&II1'}CT&S as
thp virtue of the ðo
a.,.-rtK
)II generally, and as being' concerned genel'al1
.
with conting-ent matter (vi. 4), or what I have called the concrete, anò
of its function being, as rC'gard5 that matter, &''''1'}8f.JHII -rcp lea Ta4>áll
& 1)
à1l"ocp&vat (ibid. 3), he does not treat of it in t hat work in its general
relution to truth aI1I1 thl' atnrll1atioJ} of truth, but only us it bc.us upon
T4 1I"paKTd..

A a

.35-l

The Illative
"cJlse.

guides the mind in matters of conduct, by the name
()f ph'1"oues.i,..:, or juùgnlcllt. 'fhis is the directing, COll-
tro1ling, and deterlnining principle in such mattcr8,
personal and social. "That it is to be virtuous, how
we are to gain the just idea and standard of virtue.
ho\v we are to approxiu1fde in practice to our own
standard, what is_right and wrong in a particular case,
for the answers in fulness and accuracy to these and
similar questions, the philosopher refcl
:S us to no code
'Ûf Jaws, to no moral trcatise, 1ecause no scien('e 01
Jife, app1icable to the case of an individual, has been
'Ûr can be written. Such is Aristotle's doctrine, and
it is undoubtedly true. .án ethical system n1ay supply
hnvs, general rules, guiding principles, a nUIuber of
cxarnplcs, suggestions, landmarks, lirnitations, cau-
tions, distinctions, solutions of critical or anxious
<1ifficulties; but who is to apply them to a particular
ease? ,,-hither can we go, except to the living intellect,
our o\vn, or another's? \Vhat is written is too vague,
too negative for our need. It bids us avoid extremes;
but it cannot ßscertain for us, according to our per-
sonal need, the golden mean. The authoritative
oracle, \vLich is to decide our path, is sonlething nlore
searching and manifold than such jejune gf'neraliza-
tions as treatises can give, which are Inost distinct and
ch'ar \yhen we least need theIne It is sea.ted in the
mind of the individual, \vho is thus his own law, his
own teacher, and his own judge in tho
e special cases
of duty which are personal to hiln. It comes of an
acquired habit, though it has its first origin in nature

t
e]f, and it i
formed and matured by practice ::.Lud

Tlte l\'aturc of the IllatÙ.'e SCllse. 355

('xJ1cricnco; and it manifests itself, not in any breadth
of vi 'W, any philosophical comprehension of the lllutual
t'dation
of ùuty towards duty, or any consistency in
it
t('achlllg
, but it is a capacity sufficient for tho
occa
ion, decidi ng what ought to be dune here aut!
now, by t1:is given person, under these given circum-
stances. It decides nothing hypothetical, it does not
detcl'lnine what a man should do ten years hence, or
,\.hat another should do at this tÌIne. It may indeed
happen to deciùp ten years hence as it does now, and
to decide a second case now as it now decides a first j
stiI1 its pI'csent act is for the present, not for the dis-
tant or the future.
State or public law is inflexible, but this mental
rule is Dot only n1Ïnute and pal.ticular, but has an
elasticity, which, in its application to individual cases,
i
, a
I ha\Te
aiù, not studious to l1uLÌntain the appear-
ance of consi
tency. In old titnes thp n)ason's rulo
which was in use at Lesbos was, according to .A.l'istotle,
nut of wood or iron, but of lead, so as to allo\v of its
a(ljushnent to the uue\'en surface of the stones brought
together for the work. By such the philosopher
jl1ustrates t he nature of equity in cOlltra5t with law,
ana Ruch is that phrowJsi'''J frotH \vhich the science of
nl01"als fornls its rules, auLl receives its cOlllplelnent.
]11 this re
pect of course the Jaw of truth diffc1'8
frotn the law of duty, that dutie
change, but truths
n('ver; Lut, though truth is ever one and the saine,
und the a"
ent of cprtitude is imrnntable, still the
rl'(

onings which carry us on to truth and certitudp
are uIany anù distinct J and vary with the InquIrer;
A a 2

35 6

The lliatiz'e SeJlse.

nd it is not ,vith as
ent, but with the controlling
principle in inferellce
that I am cOlnparing phrones;s.
It is with this drift tlwt I observe that the rule of con-
duct for one tnan is not ahvays the rule for another,
though the rule is al ways one and the sallie in tho
abstract, and in its principle and scope. To learn his
own duty in his own case, eaell individual 111USt have
recuur
e to his own rule; and if his rule is not suffi-
ciently. developpd in his intellect for his neel1, then he
goes to S0111e uther living, present anthority, to supply
it for hinl, not to the dead letter of a treatise or a code.
A living, pre
cnt authority, llimsplf or another, is his
immediate guide in nuìtters of a personal, social, or
political character. In buying and selling, in con-
tracts, in his treatment of others, in giving and re-
ceiving, in thinking, speaking, doing, and working, in
toil, in danger, in his l't'creations and pleasures, every
one of his acis, to be praiseworthy, 111Ust be in accord-
ance with this practical sense. Thus it is, and not by
!'cicDce, tbat he perfects the yirtues of justice, self-

omn1and, m
lgl1animity, generosity, gentleness, and
all others. IJhronesis is the regulating pl'inciple of
everyone of tlJem.
These la
t words len(1 tne to a further remark. I
doubt whpther it is cúrrect; strictly speaking, to con-
sider this phrrone,çis as a gl'neral faculty, directing and
perfecting all the virtues at once. So understood, it
i
little bettf'r than an abstract tern1, including under
it a circle of analogous faculties. severally proper to
t.be separate virtues. Properly speaking, there are as
n1any kinds of T)h1'one.
i8 as there are virtues; for the

fhe llature of the Illativi: 5'eJlsc. 357

judgment, good sense, or tact which is conspicuou:;
in a man's conduct in one subject-matter, is not
necessarily traceable in another. As in the parallel
case
of mel110ry and rea:::;ouillg, he may be great in
Olie nspect of llis character, ana little-Illindcd in
another. lIe n1ay be exemplary in hi
falnily, yet
cOlnlnit a frand on the revenue; he may be just and
cruel, brave and sensual, imprudent and patient. AnJ
if this be true of the moral virtues, it holds good still
1110re fully when we cOlnpare what is called his privatp
charactpr with hi
public. .L\. good man lllay Butke n.
had king; profligates have been great :::;tatesmen, or
magnanimou
political leaders.

o, tOO,7 I lnay go on to speak of the variou!=\ callings
find professions which give scope to the exercise of
great talents, for these talents also are matured, not
by Inere rule, but by pel'
onal skill aH(1 sagacity.
They art' a
diverse as pleading and cross-examining,
contlucting a debate in Parliament, s\vaying a public
Ineeting, and cOlnmanding an army; and here, too, 1
observe that, though the directing principle in each
case iR calleJ by the same name,-sagacity, skill, tact,
or tJrudenee,-still there is no one ruling faculty lead-
ing to en1Îuence in all thpse various Jines of action in
COllIn on, but men will excel in OUe of them, without
any talent for the rest.
The parallel may be continned in the case of the
Fine Arts, in \V hich, though true and scientific rule

Dmy be givcn, no one would therefore deny that Phi-
<lias or Rafael had a far Inore subtle standard of taste
and a. more versatile power of eU1bodyin.!.! it in his

35 8

The Illati'Z'e 5'ellsc.

works, than any which he could communlcnte to others
in even 3- series of treatises. .A.nd here again genius
is indissolubly united to one definite subject-matter;
a poet is not therefore a painter, or an architect a
musical composer.
And so, :tgain, as r(\gards the u::;eful arts and per-
f.\onal acconlplish
ents, we use the saIne word" skin,"
but proficiency in engineering or in ship-building, or
again in engraying, or again in singing, in playing
instrUll1ellt
, in acting, or in gymllastic exercises, is as
simply one with its particular subject-Inatter, as the
hUllJan soul with its particular boùy, and is, in its own
depal'unent, a sort of instinct or inspiration, not an
obedience to external rules of criticis111 or of science.
It is natural, then, to a
k th(' qnest.ion, ,vhy ratio-
cination
houhl be an exceptioll to a general la\v which
attachps to the intellectual exercises of the tnind; why
it is held to be COill111ensnrate with logical
cience; aud
,vhy logic is made an instrumental art
ufficient for
detel'Tllining every sort of truth, while no one would
drean1 of making anyone formula, however generalized,
a, "
orking rule at once for poetry, the art of medicine,
and political ,,"nrfare?
rrhis is what I have to remark concerning the Illative
Sense, and in explanation of its nature and claims;
and on the whole, I have spoken of it in four respects,
-as vipwed in itself, in its subject-matter, in the pro-
cess it uses, and in its function and scope.
First, viewed in its exercise, it is one and the same
in all concrete matters, though employed in them III
different measures. "\Ve do not reason in one way in

The .l.Va!lIre 0 1 - the Illalive Sense. 9
35

chemistry or Jaw, in another in moral:i or reli.
Óon; but
in reasoning on any
ubject whatever, which is con-
crete, we proceea, as far indeed as we can) by the lugic
of language, but we are obliged to suppJeluent it by
the llloro subtle and elastic logic of thought; for forms
hy thelnsel yes prove nothing.

ccondly, it is in fact attached to definite subject-
nlatter
, so that a given individual may possess it in
one depal'tnlent of thought, :for instance, history, and
not in another, for instance, philosophy.
'Thirl1ly, in coming to its conclusion, it proceeds
always in the
ame way, by a method of reasoning,
which, as I have observed above, is the elementary
pri
ciple of that mathematical calculus of moaerll
titHes, 'vhich has so wonderfully extended the limits of
abstract science.
Fourth)], in no class of concrete reasonings, 'whether
in experimental science, historical research, or theology,
is there anf ultilnate test of truth and error in our
inferences besides the trustworthiness of the Illative

ense that gives theul its sanction; just as there is no
sufficient t
st of poetical excellence, heroic action, or
gentleman .like conduct, other than the particular
mental sense, be it genius, taste, sense of propriety, or
the nl0l"al sen5e, to ,vhich those subject-matters a.re
!-'cverally cOluluitteL1. Our duty in each of these is to
strengthen anJ perfect the special faculty which is its
living rule, and in every case as it comes to do our
hcst. And such also is our duty antI. our necessity, as
rt.>garJ
the Illat.ive Sell:-)e.

-t6o
-...

7Ïle IIlatlve .s'fJlSe.

.

3. THE RA
GE OF THE ILLATIVE RENSE.

GREAT as are the services of ]angnage in enabling us to
extend the compass of our inferences, to test thcir
validity, and to communicate them to others, still the
mind itself is more versatile and vigorous than any of
its works, of which language is one, and it is only under
its penetrating and subtle action that the margin dis-
appears, ,vhich r have described as intervening between
verbal argumentation and conclusions in the concrete.
It deterrnines \vhat science cannot determine, the lin1Ït
of converging probabilities and the reasons sufficient
for a proof. It is the ratiocinative mind itself, and no
trick of art, however silllple in its form and
ure in
{)pcration, by ,vhich \ve are able to deterrnille, and
thereupoll to be certain, that a moving body left to
it
e1f will never stop, and that no man can live without
eating.
Nor, again, is it by any diagram t1Int \ve are able to
.scrutinize, sort, and combine the many premisses ,vhich
must be first run together before we answer duly a
given question. It is to the living mind that ,ve must
look for the means of using correctly principles of what-
ever kind, facts or doctrines, experiences or testimonies,
true or probable, and ùf discerning what conclusion

The l(llll/;C o.f the Il/ative .Sense. 361

fr'om these ÍC\ necess'try , suitable, or expedient, w heu
they are taken for granted; and thi:-;, either Ly Ineans
of a natural gift, or froln rnental formation and practice
anù a long falniliarity with those va.rious starting-points
'l'hllC\, when Laud said that he did not see his way to
come to terlns with the Holy See, "till11olne was other
tha.n she ,vas," no Catholic ,vould adn1Ït the sentilnent :
but any Catholic nlay understand that this is just the
judgment consistent ,vith Laud's actual condition of
thought and cast of opinions, his ecclesiastical position,
aud the existing state of England,
Nor, lastly, 1s an action of the tnind itself less neces-
sary ill relation to those first elements of thought \vhich
in all reasoning are assuruptions, the principlcs, tastes,
and opinions, very often of a personal character, which
are half the battle in the inference with which the
reasoning is to terrninate. It is the lnind itself that
detects them in their obscure recesse
, illustrates them,
establishes them, elÍIninates them, resolves thenI into
simpler iL1eas, as the case lllay be. The n1Ílld conteln-
p1ates thern without the use of words, by a process which
cannot be analyzed. Thus it wa" that Bacon separated
tIle physical system of the world from the theolugical ;
thus that Butler connected together the moral systelu
with the religious. Logical formula
could never have
sustained the reasonings involved in such investigations.
Thus the Illative Sellse, that is, the reasonÌ!lg' f:lculty,
fl') exercised by gifted, or by educated or otherwise \Vcll-
prepared minds, Las its function in the beginning
,
uÚddle, and end of an verbal discu
sion and inquiry,
and in every step of the process. It is a rule to itself,

3 62

7-hr lllati'Z'(
Scnse.

and appeals to no judgment beyond its own; find
nttends upon the whole course of thought from ante-
cedents to consequents, with a minute diligence find
un,vearied presence, which is impossible to a cumbrous
apparatus of verbal reasoning, though, in cOlnn1uni-
eating with otheY's, words are the only instrulnent we
possess, alid a serv. ceable, though'iu1perfect instrun1ent.
Olle function indeed there is of Logic, to \vhich I have
rcferrcll in the preceding sentence, ,vhich the lllative
Sen
e does not and cannot perform. It supplies no
COU1U1on ll1casuro betwl'en mind and mind, as being
nothing else than a personal gift or acquisition. Fe,v
th0re are, as I saitl above, who are good reasoners on
all subject-Inatter
. Two 1Hen, ,vho reason ,yell each in
his own provilJce of thought, may, one or both of them,
fail and pronounce oppo
ite judgluents on a question
belonging to S01l1P thirtl province. 1\101'00ver, all
reasoning being froin premi
ses, and those premisses
arising (if it so happen) in their fir
t elclllents fl'om
per
onal characteristics, in \vhich lnell are in fact in
es
ential and il'relnec1iablA variance one ,,
ith another,
the ratiocinative talent ean do no Inore than point ou t
,,,here thE' difference between thel11 lies, how far it is
iUll11atcl'ial, when it is \vGrth while continuing an argu-
luent between theIn, and when not.
Now of the three Blain occa
ions of tbe exercise of the
Illative Sense, ,vhich I have been insisting on, and which
are the measure of its range J the start, the course, and
the issue of an inquiry, I have already, in treating of
Informal Inference, shown the place it holds in the final
resolution of concrete questions. Here then it is lpft to

7Ju" !<llJlgC of the Illative S
"Jlse. 363

me to illu'3trate its presence nnll action il) relation to
the pleull'ntm"y pl'l'Illis
es, anù, again, to the cüutluct
of an argultll)ut. ..A,uù fir
t of the latter.

1.

rrhere has been a great Jcal 'written of lat c years on
the
uLjet;t of the state of Grcece a.nù l{olne during the
pre-historic period; let us say before the OIYlnpi:1l1s
in Greece, and the war with Pyrrhus in the auuals of
Houle. Kow, in a question like this, it is plain that
the inquirer has first of all to decide on tbe point froln
which be is to start in the presence of the received
accounts; on ,,-hat side, [rolu ,vhat quarter he is to
appr0ach theln; on what principles his discu
sion is
to be conducted; what he is to aSSUlne, ,vhat opinions
or objections he is sumlnarily to put asiù.e as nugatory,
what argnnlellts, and when, he is to consider as nppo-

ite, what false i
sues are to be avoided, when the
st
te of his argnlnents is ripe for a conclusion. Is he
to commence with absolutely discarJing all that has
hitherto 1een received; or to retain it in outline; or
to luake ::;clections froln it; or to consiùer and inter-
pret it a;:) 111ythical, or as allegorical; or to hold so
lunch to be tl'ustWOl't hy, or at least of lJ1"il1tlî facie
authority, as he cannot actually disprove; or never to
dc:-:tl"oy except in proportion as he ca.n construct?
r11wn, as to thp kina of argulnents suitable or adn1Ïs-
sible, hour far are tradition, analogy, isolated lllonu-
luellts and records, ruins, vague report
, legonds, the
fnets or f'ayillgs of later titues, langnage, popular pro-
verbs, to ten in the inquiry? what are Inark
of truth,

3 6 4

The Illative Sellse.

what of falsehood, what is probable, ,,,hat snspIcIoUS,
what prolniðes well for discriminating facts fro111 fic-
tions? 'rhen, argunlonts have to bo balanced against
each other, and then.lastly the dècision is to be made,
whether any conclusion at all can be dra\vn, or whether
any before certain issues are tried and settled, or
,-vhether a Pl'obable conclusion or a cprtain. It is plain
how incessant ,vill be the call here or there for the exer-
cise of a definitive judgment, how little that judgmeut
will be helped on by logic, and how intimately it ,vill be
dependent upon the intellectual complexion of the "Titer.
'Ibis lnight be illustrated at great length, ,vere it
necessary, froln the writings of any of those able Dlen.
whose names are so 'yell known in connexion ,vith the
subject I have instanced; such as :Niebuhr,
Ir. Clinton,
Sir George Le,vis, ::\lr. Grote, and Colonel Mure. Thesd
authors have scvprally vie\vs of their own on the period
of history which they have selecteù for investigation,
and they are too learned and logical not to kno\v and
to use to the utmost the testiIllonies by \vhich the facts
,vhich they investigate are tG be ascertained. 'Y"hy
thcn do they differ so luuch fronI each other, whether
in their estitnate of those testinlonies or of those facts?
because that estinlate is simply their OWll, cOIning of
their own judgment; aud that judgtnent cOBling of
assumptions of their own, explicit or inlplicit; and
those assumptions spontaneously issuing out of the state
of thought re
pectively belonging to each of them;
and all these successive proce
ses of minute reasoning
superintended and directed by an intellectual instrl1-
llleut fa.r too subtle and spiritual to be scientific.

The !\)allge of the Illative SC1lse. 365

\Y1Hlt wa
Xiebuhr's idea of the office he had ander-
taken? I suppo:-;e it was to accept ,vha.t he found in
the historians of Tlome, to interrogate it, to take it to
pieces, to put it together again, to re-arrange and in-
terpret it. Prescription together with internal con
is-
tellcy 'was to him the evidence of faet, and if he pulleJ
down he felt he was bound to build up. Very different
i:5 the spirit of another school of writer
, with ,,
hom
prescription is nothing, and ,vho will admit no eviùence
which bas not fir"5t proved its right to be admitted.
" 'Ve are able," says Xiebuhr, " to trace the history of
the Roman constitution back to the beginning of thE:
Common,vealth, as accurately as we wish, and even
l110re perfectly than the hi
tory of Inany port.iuns of th

nlÎddIe ages." But, ",ve may rejoice," f'ays Sir George
Lewis, "that the ingenuity or learning of Xiebuhr

hould have enabled him to advance many noble hvpo-
theses and conjectures respecting the forn} of the early
constitution of Rome, but, unless he can support those-
hypothe
eR by sufficient eviòence, they are not entitled
to our belief." " Xiehuhr," says a "Titer nearly relatetl
to lll)'self, "often expresses much contelnpt for Iner(
incredulous cl'iticism and negatiye conclusions; . . yet
"risely to disbelievc is our first grand requisite in deal..
ing with m-aterials of nlixed worth." And Sir George
IJPwis again, " It may be said that there is scarcely any
of the leading conclusions of Xiebuhr's ,,,ork which has
not been inlpugned by some sub
equ(\nt writer."
.o,\.gain, " It i
true," says
iebuhr, "that the Trojan
war belongs to the region of fable, yet undeniably it has
all hi::;torical foundation." But )11'. Grote 'writes, " If

3 66

The Illatz"'i.'e SCllse.

we arp nsked ,,'hpther the Trojan war is not a legend
. . rai

a npon a ba
is of truth, . . onr answer lllust
1)c, t]lat, as tht:\ po
sibility of it cannot be denied, so
neit her can the 1'('ality of it be affil'lned." On the
ot h(>r lland, )1r. Clinton lays llo,,"n the general rulù,
" "r e n1ay acknowledge as real per
ons, all those WhOlU
there is no rl'a
on for reje
ting. Th(l pre
lllnption is
in fa\'our of the early traùition, if no argument can be
brought to ov('rthrow it." Thus he lodges the onus
In.oùandi ,,-ith those who inlpugn the received accounts;
but 1[r. Grote and
ir George Le"wis throw it upon
those who defend them. "IIistorical evidence," !Says
tho latter, "is fouuded on the testinlollY of credible
witnesses."
\nd ngain, "It is perpetually assumed in
practice, that historical evidence is different in its nature
from other sorts of evidence. f).'his laxitJ seeIns to be
justifi('J by the doctrine of taking the best evidence
which can be oLtaincd. The object of [lny] inquiry will
be to npply to the early Roman history the
alne rules
of evidence ,vhich are applied by CUllinon consent to
modern history." Far less severe is the juùgn1ent of
Colonel :\1nre: "'Vhere no positive hi::,torical proof is
nffil'mable, the balance of historical probability D111st
I'
duce itself verr much t a reasonable indulgence to
tbe weight of national conviction, and a deference to
the testimony of the earliest native authorities." "Rea-
sonable indulgence" to popular belief, "deference"
to ancient traùition, are principles of ,yritillg history
abhorrent to the judicial telnper of Sir George Lewis.
He cOll
iclcrs the ,yords" reasonable indulgellce" to
be cc an} biguous," and observes that "the very point

The RaJlge of the .Illatiz'e Sense. 367

which cannot be taken for grantcù, and in which
writers difrer, is, as to the extent to ,vhich contempo-
rary attestation may be pre",umed without direct and
positive proof, . . the extent to \vhich the existence
(jf a popular belif:f concerning a supposed matter of
fact authorizes the inference that it grew out of
authentic testimony." .<-'-nd
Ir. Grote observes to
tbe sam-e effect: "The ,vord tradition is an equivocal
,yorù, and begs the whole question. It is t.acitly un-
derstood to Ünply a tale descriptive of so\ne real
111atter of fact, taking rise at the tilne when the fact
happened, originally accurate, but corrupted by oral
transluission."
\nd Le\vis, who quotes the passage,
adds, " This tacit understanding is the key-stone of the
whole argument."
I aln not contrasting these various opinions of able
tHen, who have given themselves to historical research,
as if it "rere any refl<:ction on them that they Jiffer
fn))}} each other. It is the cause of their differing on
,,,,hich I wisb to insist. Taking the facts by tllem-
selves, probably these authors would come to no con-
clusion at all j it is the" tacit understandings " which
Jf r. Grot<
speaks of, the vague and impalpable notions
of cc reasonablene
s " on his own side as ,veIl as on
that of others, which both Inake conclusions possihle,
and are the pledge of their being contraaictor.\
. The
conclusions vary with the particular writer, for each
writes from his own point of view and with his own
principles, and th
sc admit of no common measure.
This in fact is their o,vn account of the matter:
46 The re
n1ts of speculative historical inquiry," says

3 éR

The II/ati'Z-,c Sc J/se.

Coloncll\Iure, (t can ral'eh. atnount to mor
than fair
01
presuluption of the reality of the events in question, a

limiteù to their genenll 511 bstance, not as e:>..tending to
their details. 1\01' can there consequently be expected
in the tninùs of different inquirers Hny fiuch unity
regarding the precise degree of reality, as nlay fre-
quently exist in r{.'
pect to events ath

ted by docn-
.
mentary evidence."
1 r. G rote corruborate
this de-
cision by the striking instance of the diversity of
ex.isting- opinions concerning the Homeric Poems.
cc Our nleans of kno,vledge," he says, " are so lin1Ïted,
that no one can protluce arguments sufficiently cogent
to contend against opposing- preconceptions, and it
creates a painful sensation of diffidence, ".he11 we read
the expre
sions of equal and absolute persuasion 'with
which the two opposite conclusion
haye both been
aù vanced." ..ind again, cc There is a difference of
opinion among the bpst critics, ,vhich is probably not
destined to be a<1justeù, since so much depends partly
upon critical feeling, partly upon the general reason-
ings in respect to ancient epieal unity, with which a
man sits down to the study." Exactly so; every onp
has his OWll cc critical feeling," his antecedent "reason-
ings," and in consequence his own" absolute persua-
sion," con1Íng in fresh
na fresh at every turn of tho
discussion; and who, ,vhethcr stranger or friend, is to
reach anll affect ,,,hat is so intilIlately bound up with
thp mental cOllstitution of each?
II ence the categorical contradictions between one
writt'r and another, ,vhich abound. Colonel .i\lure
appeals in defcnce of an historical thesis to the (( fact

The Range 0./ the Illative Sense. 3 6 9

of the 1Icl1enic confederacy c01nbining for the adop-
tion of a C01l11110n national systeul of chronology In
7iG B.C." ßlr. Grot0 replies: "Kothing is more at
variance with my cOlJception,"-he just now spoke of
tLe pl"t'collceptions of others,-" of the state of the
llellcnic "Yorld in 776 D.C" than the idea of a combina-
tion among all the 1nemhers of the race for any pur-
pose, much Blore fOl' the purpose of adopting a common
national
ysteln of chronology." Colonel
Iure speaks
of the" bigoted ..it,henian public j" 1\11'. Grote replies
tLat "no public ever less deserved the epithet of
c Ligoted 1 than the Athenian." Colonel
Iure also
sppuks of 1\11'. Grote's "arbitrary hypothesis;" Hnd
again (in
lr. Grote's ,,'ords), of his 'c unreasonable
sceptici
m." lIe cannot disprove by mere argument
the conclu
ions of :\1 r. Grote; he can but have recourse
to a. per
onal criticism. lIe virtually say
, cc ,yo e differ
in our pel":-ional vie'v of thing:-:." .-Jlèll become personal
,vhen logic fails; it is their mode of appealing to their
own prilI1ary elen1C
nts of thought, and their own ilIa-
ti\ye ::;cnse, against the principles and the juùgnlent of
another.
I have alrcady toucheù upon Niebuhr's method of
iuve
tigatioo, and Sir Gèorge Lewi:;'s dislike of it: it
supplie
u
,vith as a ppo:site an instance of a ditferellC(\
in tirst principles as is afforùed by
lr. Grote and
Colonel
Iurl'. "'rhe 11l:1in characteristic of his history,"
says I
ewi:-., c'is the extent to \vhich he relies upon in-
teroal c\-idence, and upon the indications afforded by
the narrativè it
elf, independently of the testilnony of
its truth." .L-\llÙ," Ingelluity and labour can proùuce
E b

3ïO

The Illative Se1lse.

nothing but hypotheses and conjectures, which may be
supported by analogies, hut can never rest upon the
solid fonl1Jation of proof." And it is undeniable, that,
rightly or wrongly, disdaining the scepticisln of the
rnel'e critic, Niebuhr does consciously proceeù by the
high path of t1ivination. " For my o,vn part," he ::;a)"s,
"I di1:Úle that, since the censorship of Fabins and
Decius fans in the same year, that Cn. Flavius became
mediator between his o,vn class and the higher
orders." Lewis consiùers this to be a process of guess-
ing; ànd Ea
.s, "Instead of employing those tests of
credibility which are consistently applied to modern
history," Kiebuhr, and his follo,vers, and most of his
opponents, "attell1pt to guide thl'il' judgment by the
indication of internal evidence, and assume that the
truth is discovered hy an occult faculty of historical
divination." Kiebuhr defends hinIself thus: "The real
geugrapher has a tact which deter
incs his judglnent
ana choice among different statements. lie is able
from isolated statelnents to draw inferences respecting
things that are unknowll, \vhich are clo
cly npproxi-
mate to results obtained fronl observation of facts, and
111ay supply their place. He is able with lin1Îted data
to forlll an iu:.age of thinós ,vhich no eyc-\\Titness has
de
cl'ibed." lie npplics this to hin)self. The priuciple
set forth in this passage is obviously the saUIP as I
should myself advocate j but Sir George Lc,vis, though
not simply denying it as a pi illciple, makes little
account of it, when applied to historical research. "It
is not enough," he says, "for an historian to claim the
posse::;sion of a retrospective second-sight, which is de-

The Range of the Illative Sense. 371

nied to the rest of the world-of a mysterious doctrine,
revealed only to the initiated." And he pronounces,
that" the history of Niebuhr has opened lnore ques-
tions than it bas closed, ",Lid it has set in motion a large
body of conlbatants, whose nlutual variances are not at
present likely to be settled by deference to a common
principle." 2
".. e see from the above extracts how a controversy,
such as that to which they belong, is carried on fronl
starting-points, and with collateral aids, Dot formally
proved, but n10re or less assulned, the processof assump-
tion lying in the action of the Illative Sense, a
applied
to primary elenlents of thought respectively congenial
to the di
putants.
ot that explicit argumentation on
these nlinute or Inillor, though iInportant, points is not
sometimes possible to a certain extent; but, as I have
said, it is too unwieldy an expedient for a constantly
recurring need, even ,vhen it is tolerably exact.

2.

And now secondly, as to the first principles them-
selves. In illustration, I win mention u
1l1er separate
heads some of those elementary contrariet.ies of opinion,
on which the Illative bense has to act, discovering thl'rn,
folJowing thelll ont, defenùing or resisting thein, as the
case may be.
1. .As to the statement of the case. This depends on

2 l'iebnhr, cc Roman History," v01. i. p. Iii; vol. iii. pp. 2G
. 318.322.
"Lectures," vol. iii. App. P xxii. Lewis," Roman History," vol. i.
pp. II-Ii; vol. ii. pp, 48
-19:!. F. W. Xewmnu, ,. R,'gal Rome,"
p. v. Grote," Greece," vol. ii. pp. Gi, 68. 218. G30-G39. :\Iure,
" Greece/' vol. iii. p. 503; vo!. iv. p. 31S. Clinton, ap. Gr'otc, suprà.
B b 2

..,-"
.)/-

The IlIa ti'(/e SC1lse.

the particular aspect under ,vhich ,ve vie,v a subject,
that is, on the abstraction which forals our representa-
tive notion of what it is. Sciences arc only so many
distinct a
pl)cts of nature j SOIlH::tilllt'S suggested by
nature itself, sOtnctimcs created hy the n1Ïnd. (1) One of
the sinlple
t
lllll broa<1est a
rects undf'r ,vhich to view
tbe phy
ical world, is that of a systerll of final causes,
or, on the other Ita lld, uf initia I ur effective causes.
Bacon, ha.ving it in vie\v to extend our power over
nature, adopted t.he latter. He took firn1 hold uf the
idea of cau
ation (in the COlnlnon sense of the word) as
contrasted with that of de
ign, refusing to mix up the
two ideas in one inquiry, and denoullcing such tradi-
tional interpretations of fact
, as diel but obscure the
sill1plicity of the aspect necessary for his pUl'pose. He
saw' what other
before hÏ1n luight have seen in ,vhat
they saw, but ,vho did not see as he S:1W it. In this
achievement of int clIect, ,vhich has been so fruitful in
results, lie his genius and his falne.
(
) So again, to rl
fer to a very different subject-
luatter, ,ve often hear of the expl,.its of ::-;orne great
lawyer, jnùge or advucate, who is ahle in po"plexed ca
es,
,vhen COlunlon n1Índs Sf\e nothing but a hopeless heap
of facts, foreign or contrary to each other, to detect
the principle ,vhich rightly interprets the riddle, anù, to
the adlniration of all hearers, converts a chaos into an
orderlv and lun1inous whole. This is what is meant
by originality in thinking: it is the discovery of an
a
pect of a subject-matter, simpler, it may be, and more
intclIigiblc than any hitherto taken.
(ð) On the other hand, such aspect3 are often unreal,

The Rangt-" of the Illllti'Z,c Se1lse.

"' 7 '"
oJ "

fl
being mere exhibitions of ingenuity, not of true
originality of 111Ìnd. Thib is espccia,lly the ca
e in wha.t
are called philosophical views of history. Such seems to
me tho theory advocated in a 'york of great learning,
vigour, auù acuteness, 'Yarburtun's "Divine Legation
of )lo
es." 1 do not call Gibbon n)erely ingenious;
still his account of the rise of Christianity is the mere
subjcct.ive view of Olle who could not enter into its
depth and power.
(4) The a
pect under which we view things is often
intpuse)y persona); nay, even awfully so, considering
that, from the nature of the case, it does not brIng
hume its idiosyncrasy eithel' to oursel ve
or to others.
Each of us looks at the world in his own way, and does
not know that perhaps it is characteristically his o\vn.
'fhis i
tIll> case even a
regal'ds the senses. SOlne
ll1eU have little perception of colours;
ome recognize
one or two; to :some Ineu two contrary colours, as red
and green, are oue and the same. Ho,v poorly can we
apprecia.tp the beauties of natul"è, if our eyes discern, 011
the face of thiug:s)only an Indian-ink or a drab creation!
(5) So again, as reganls forin : each of us abstracts
the relation of line to line in his own personal ,vay,-as
one man n1Ïght apprehent1 a curve a$ convex, another
lt
concave. Of conr:,e: a.s in the case of a curve, there
may be a limit to po

ible aspects; hnt still, even when
we agree togethcl', it is not pel"haps that we learn one
from c.1uother, or fr..l1 under any law of agreement, but
that our separate idiù
yncrasies happen to concur. I
fear I ITmy :seenl trifling, if I alludp to an illustration
which has ever had a great force with TIle, and that

374

The illative Sense.

for the very reason it is so trivial and minute.
Children, learning to read, are sometillles presented
with the letters of the alphabet turned into the figures
of IHeH in various attitude
. It is curious to observe
froin such representations, ho,v differently the shape of
the letters strikes different minds. In consequence I
have continually aSked the question in a chance COln-
pany, whit;h wny certain of the great letters look, to
the rigl,t or the lpfc; and w.herea
nearly everyone
present had his own clear view, sO clear tbat he could
not endure the opposite vie,,,", still I have generally
found that one half of the party consiùered the letters
in que
tion to look to the left, ,yhile the other half
thought they looked to the right.
(6) This variety of interpretation in the very ele-
ments of outlines seems to throw light upon other
cognate differences between one lnan and another . If
they look at the mere letters of the alphabet so
differently, ,ve may under::;tand how it is they form
such distinct judgments upon handwriting; nay, how
some Dlen I1lay have a talent for deciphering from it
the intellectuéll and Illol'al character of the writer,
,vhich others have not. Another thought that occurs
is, that perhaps here lies the explanation why it is that
family likenesses are so variously recognized, and how
lllistakes in identity may be dangerously frequent.
(7) If we so variously apprehend the falniliar objects
of sense, still more various, \ve may suppose, are the
aspects and associations attached by us, one with
another, to intelleci:ïual objects. I do not say we differ
in the objects themselves, but thatwe may haveintern1in-

iÏle l(lll
![e of tile .If/alive Sense. 3ï 5

nble differences as to their relations and circulllstallcPs.
I have heard say (again to take a tritiing Illatter) that
at the bEginning of this century, it wa
a suhject of
t'crious, nay, of angl'Y controversy, whether it began
".ith Jannary 1800, or Ja.nuary 1801. Argument, which
ought, if in any Ctt.se, to have easily brought the question
to a decision, was but. sprinkling water upon a fhulle. I
am not cleal' that, if it could be fairly started now, it
would not h-ad to silnilar results; certainly I know those
who studiou
ly withùraw fro III giving an opinion on the
subject, when it is accidpnt.ally mooted, from theirexperi-
cnceof the eager feeJing-which it is sure to excite in some
one or other who is present. This eagerness can only
arise from an overpowering sense that the truth of the
mattcr lie
in the one alternati\"e, tllHI not in the other.
These iustances, because they are so casual, suggest
how it comes to pass, that men differ
o widely [1'0111
each other in religious and liIoral perceptions. lIere, I

ay again, it does not prove tha.t there is no objective
truth, because not aU !lICn are in pos
ession of it; or
that we are not responsihle for the a-.;
ociations which
we attach, :1 nd the relations whieh we a

igll, to the
object", of the intellect. But this it does suggest to us,
that there is something deeper in our differences than
the acciùcnt of extcrnal circumstances; and t hat we
need the interposition of a Power, greater than huuHtll
teaching anJ hUlll:lU argulnellt, to make our beliefs
tru(, and our lninùs one.
2. K cxt I come to the inlplicit aSslllnptioll of (h'finite
propositions in the fir:;t start of a cour
e of rea
oning,
and the arbitrary exclusion of others, of ,vhatever kind.

3i 6

TlttJ .llialive SCllS
.

Unle:ss we had the right, ,vhen we pleased, of ruling that
pro}Jositions \\'pre irreleyallt or absurd, I do not see how
we could conduct an argulnellt at all; our way ,,'oulù
Le sinlply blockC'd up by extra\"agant principles and
theorie
, gratuitous hypotheses, false issue
,ullsupported
su1telnent
, alid inereùible facts. There are those ,,,ho
have treated the hi:-;tðry of Abrahalll as an astronoll1ical
record, and have
}Joken of our .á.dorable Saviour as the
sun in .LÍrie8, Arabian
rythology has changed Solomon
into a u1Ïghty wizard. K oah has been cOllsidered tùe
patriarch of the Chine::;e people. The ten tribes have
heen pronounced still to live in their ae
celldallts, the
Red Indian
; or to be the :tncpstors of the Goths and
'{andals, and thereby of the present Elu'opean races.
SUllIe have cunjectured that the Apollos of the ..Ltcts of
the ..\pustles was .....\. pollonills Tyaneus. ..c\ble Inen have
reasoned out, aln1ust a.gainst their will, thrtt lu]all1 was a
negro. 'rhese propo
itiuns, and lllaUY others ufvarions
kinùs, we should thinkour
elves justified in pa

ingover,
if ,YO were engageJ in ë.t ,york on sacred history; and
there are others, on thp contrary, which we should assulne
as true by our own right and without notice, and ,vith-
out which ,ve could not set about or carryon our work.
(]) lIowever, the right of Inaking assumptions has
Leen dl
puted; but, when the objections are examined, I
thiIlk they only go to show that ,ve have no right in
al'gllllll'nt tu Blake any assumption \ve please. Thus,
in the hi
t()rical researches which just 1l0W callIe before
us, it seeUlS fair to
ay that no testimony should be
received, except such as COlnes froln conlpetellt'witne
ses,
while it is not unfair to urge, on the other side, that

Inc Rallge of the Illatri'e Sense. 3ï7

trndition, though unauthenticated, being (what i:-; cal1eù)
in pos
e

ioll, ha
a prescription ill its favour, and Il1nYJ
]i1'imd fa('ie, or provisioually, b<: l'cc:eivüll. Here are
the materials of a fail' dispute; but theJoc are writers
,vho
ecnl to have gone far beyond this reasonable
scepticism, laying ÒO\Vll as a general proposition that \\.e
have no right in philosophy to make any a
SllIuption
whatever, anù that we ought to begin with a univer
al
doubt" This, however, is of all aSSUlllptions tbe greatest,
and to forbid assuruptions ul1ivp.l"
ally is t.o forbid this
one in particular. Doubt itself is a positive state, and
implies a definite habit of minù, and thereby neces-
sarily involves a systerll of principles and doctrines all
it
OWll. .A.gain, if nothing is to be assunled, w hat is
our very Inethod of reasoning but an assull1ption ? and
what our nature itself? 'fIle \rery sense of pleasure
anù pain, which is one of the most intimate portions vf
our5elves, inevitably trall
lates itself into intellectual
a.ssu Olptions.
Of the two, I would rather have to maintain that we
ouU'ht to ùe<J"in with believiuc,. e\ger\.thino- that i
offered
o 0 w J I:) .
to ou,' acceptance, than that it is our duty to doubt of
cverything. The fornler, indeed, seenu; the true way
of learning. In that ca
e, we soon discover and dis-
card what is contradictory to itself j and error having
always SOllIe portion of truth in it, and the truth haNing
a reality which "error has not, \Ve Illay expect, that
,vhe!1 there is an honest purpose and fair talents, we
shnll sOluehow make our way forward, the error falling
off froIn the lnind, and the tnlth developing- nnll occu-
pying it. 'rhus it is that the Catholic religion is

37 8

The illative Sellse.

reached, as we see, by inqairers from all points of the
cOlnpass, a
if it Inattered not where a man began, so
that he had a.n eye anù a heart for the truth.
(2) An argunlcnt has been often Dut forward by un-
believers, I think by Paine, to this effect, that cc a reve-
lation, ,vhich is to be received as true, ouO'ht to he

,vritten on the sun." This nppeals to the COllllnon-
sense of the many with gl'eat force, and irnplies the
aSSulllption of a principle which Butler, indeed, would
l}Ot gran t, and would consider unphilosophical, and
Jet I think something may be said in its favour.
'Vhpther a b3tractedly defensible or not, Catholic popu-
1atiolls would not be averse, 'nL1.llntis 'inutanrli.'?, to
at1utitting it. rrill these last centuries, tht:> Vi:-:ihle
Church ,vas, at least to her children, the light of the
,vorh1, as con
picuons as tbe SUll in the heavens; and
the Creed was \Vrittell on her forehead" and proclaimc{l
through her voice, by a teaching as precise as it wa::;
elnphatical; in accordancp with the text, cc \Vho is she
that looketh forth at the da\vn, fair as the l11UOn, Lright
as the sun, terrible as an army set in at'ray ? " It" as
not,
trictly speaking, a l11iracle J donbtle
s; but in its
effect, nay, in its circumstalices, it ""as little less. Of
cour
e I would not allow that the Church fails in thi

manifestation of the truth now, any more than in
fornler times, thougL the clouds have come over the
sun; for ,vbat she has lost in her appeal to the ima-
gination, she has gained in philosophical cogency, Ly
the evidence of her persistent vitality. 80 far is clear,
that if Paine's aphorism has a primâfacie force agaillbt
Christianity, it o\ves this advantage to the miserable
deeds of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries

Th, ]?aJ/ge oj the Illative Sense. 3i9

(3) Another conflict of first principles or assuluptions,
which have often Leell iU1plicit on either side, has !Jpcn
carried through in our day, and. relate:::, to the end and
srope of civil society, that is, wl)ether governlnent and
legi=--lation ought to be of a religious character, or not;
whether the state has a conscience; whether Chri:-;-
tianity is the la,y of the land; whether the Inagistrate,
in puni
hing offenders, exerci
es a retributive office or
a corrective; or whether the whole structure of society
is raised upon the basis of secular expediency. The re-
lation of philosophy and the sciences to theology comes
into the question. The old tirne-honoured theory has,
during the last forty years, been vigorously cOlltenc1illg
with the new; aud the lle,v is in the ascendant.
(4) There i-; anathee great cont1ict of first principles,
anù that among Christiaus, which ha::; occupied a large

pace in our domestic history, during the last thirty or
forty years, and that is the controver::,yabout the l{ule
of Paith. I notice it as affording an ill
tance of au
us
umption so deeply sunk into the popular llliud, that
it 1;0} a work of great difficulty to obtain froBl its nuÚu-
tainers an ackuo\V ledglncnt that it is all assumption.
That Scripture is the Rule of Faith is in fact an a
sump-
tion E:O congènifJ I to the state of mind and course of
thought usual alnong Protestants, that it seems to them
rather a. truisln than a truth. If they are in controversy
,yith Ca.tholics on any point of faith, they at once ask,
(( \rhere do you finù it in Scripture? " and if Catholics
reply, as they Tnust do, that it is not neces::mrily in
Scripture in order to ùe true, nothing can persuade
them that
nch an ans,," er is not an evasion, and a
triumph to thell1selves. Yet it is by no means
e1f-

3 go

The Illative SCllse.

C'vident that all religious truth is to be found in a number
of \vorks, however sacred, which were \vritten at diffe-
rent timc
, and did not always form one book; and in
f:1ct it is a docr rille very hard to prove. So n1uch RO,
that years ago, \vhpn I was considering it froln a 1)1'0-
testant point of vip,,,", :)lHl wi
11ed to defend it to the
1e
t of tllY power, T was unable to give any hetter
acconnt of it than the fol1owing, which I here quote
from its arro
itenef's to illY present
ubject.
" It ma tter
not," I said, speaking of the first Pro-
testants, ",,
hether or not they only happened to conle
right on what, in a lugical point of vipw, are faulty pre-
Inisses. They had 110 time for theories of any kind; and
to require theorif1s at their hand argues an ignorance
of 11\1111al) nature, and of the ways in ,\yhich truth is
struck out in the conrse of life. Cornrnon
ense, chance,
uloral perception, genius, the great discoverers of prin-
ciples do not reason. rrhpy have no arguments, no
grounds, they see the truth, b
t they do not know how
they see it; and if at any time they attempt to prove
it, it is ns much a ll}a
tpr of experiment ,yith them, as
if they 11:1(1 to find a road to n. distant lllountain, ,vhich
the)" see with the eye; and they get entangled, t'tnbar-
ra

l'd, and perchance overthrown in the supprfluous en-
deavour. It is the second-rate rnen, though most u
eful
in tJu-,ir place, who pr()ve
reconcile, finish, anlI expla.in.
Probably, the popular feeling of the sixteenth century
saW tIle Bible to be the 'V ord of God, so as nothing
else is His \V ord, by the power of a strong sense, by
a sort of moral instinct, or by a happy augury." S
rl'hat is, I cOllsidpred the assumption au act of the
. "Prophetical Office of the Church'" pp. 347. 3.1.8, ed. 183i,

The Range of the II/alive .Scl/se. 381

Il1ati,.e Sense ;-1 shoulJ now aùù, the Il]ativl' Scns p ,
acting on llli
taken elClnellts of thought.
0. .L\.fter the aspects ill which a que
tiún is to be
viewed, aHa the principles on ,vhich it is to be con-
sidered, come the argulnents by which it is decided;
among tbese are antecec1ent reasons, which are
especially ill point here, bocause they are in gl'eat
InCa'Url' llln de by ourselvo
and belollg to our persona.l
cùar:H'tl'r. and to them I
hall confine D1yself.
...\ntecedl'nt rea
oning, ,vhen negative, is safe. ffhus
no on
would say that, because JLlexander's rash hero-
iSIll is one of the leading characteristic
of his history,
therefore we are justified, except ill writing a rOlnance,
iu a
:-:erti II g tha tat a particular tinl(
anù place, he
distinguishell bilnself by a certain pxploit about which
history is altogether
ilellt,; but, OIl the other hand, his
notoriou
bra\'ery wuuld be ahnost dl'cisive against any
chargè agiull:-;t hinl of having on a particular occasion
acte(! a", a coward.
In like Ulan nOI', gooù character goes far in destroy-
ing the force of even pbusible charges, There is
inth.cù a rlegreo of evi<.lence in
UppOl't of an allega-
tion, ag'ainsti which reputation is no defence; but it
nlust be
îngularly strong to overcome an e
tabli
hed
auteceaellt pruùability which stands opposed to it.
'rhu
historical personages or great authors, men ('f
high and pure character, Lave haù imputations cast
upon thl'm, easy to Blake, Jifficnlt or illipossiLle to
Ineer, \\. hich are indignantly truddcn under foot by all
ju:-;t and
ensiblc men, as being as auti-socia,] ItS tlu'y
are inhuman. lllectl not ndd ,dlat a cruel and despic-
able part a husbanll 01' a son ,voulJ play, who rcaùily

S2
..)

1ÏLc Illative Scnse.

listened to a charge against his ,vife or his fathpr. Yet
all this being admitted, a great nUlnber of cases remain
,,,hich are ppl'plt:'xing,and 011 ,,'hich we cannot adjust the
claÏ111s of couflictingand heterogeneousargurllellts except
by the kf'en and subtle operation of the Illa.tive Sense.
ButIl'r'
argulnent in his
lll((log!l is such a presulnp-
tion used negatively. Objection being brought ag<Únst
certain cllaracteristics of Christianity, he Tueets it by
the pl"t:'sulnption in tlleir fa\rour de)'i\red fI"OID their
parallels as discoverabl
in the order of nature, argu-
ing that they do not tell against the Divine origin
of Christianity, unl

s they tell against the Divine
origin of the natul'nl sj'steln also. But he could nut
ndduce it as a po
itivc and direct proof of the Divine
origin of t IIp Christian doctrines that they had their
parallel8 in nature, or at the utn10st H,
luore than a
recounnendation of them to tbe religious inquirer.
Unbelievers use the antecedent argument from the
order of nature against our belief in miracles. 11ere,
if they only mean that the fact of that E-ystem of laws,
by which physical nature is governed, Inakes it ante-
cedently irnprobable that an exception sllould occur in
it, there is no objection to the arguluent; but if, as
is not unCOlnmon, they mean that the fact of an
established orùer is absolutely fatal to the very notion
of an exception, they are using a presunlption as if it
were a proof. They are saying,- "-hat has happened
999 times one way cannot possibly happen on the
1000th time anothel' ,yay, because what has happened
999 times one way is likely to happen in the saIne way
On the 1000th. But unlikely things do Lappen some...
times. If, however, they mean that the existing order

Th Rallge of the Illative Sense.

" 8 "
" "

of nature con
titutcs a physical necc
sity, find that Hi
law is an unalterable fact, this is to as
ume the very
point in debate, and is much more than asserting its
autpcedeut probability.
Facts cannot be proved by presuTuptions, yet it is
remarkaLlp that in cases whcre nothing stronger than
prpsumptioll wa
even profe
:sed, scientific lHell have
sonJetillJes acteù as if they thonght this kind of argu-
ment, taken by itself, decisive of a fact ,vhich was in
debate, Thus in the controversy about the Plurality
of worlels, it has been considered, OIl purely antecec1pnt
grounùs, as far as I see, to be so necessary that the
Creator should have filled with living beings the lumi-
naries which we see in thp sky, and the otLel" cu
nlical
bodies which ,vp imagine there, that it ahnost aUloun ts
to a blasphemy to doubt it.
Theologica.l concl usiQns, it is true, have often been
J1lalle on autecedent reasonings; but then it Inust be
recollected that theological rea
oning professes to be
sustained by a 11101'8 than hUlnan power, and to be
guaranteed by a more than human authority. It may
be true, also, that conversions to Christianity have often
been made on antecedent reasons; yet, even admitting
the fact, which is not quite clear, a number of autece-
ùent pl'oha hilities, confirming each other, Inay Illake it
a duty in the judgment of a prudent lnan, not only to act
as if a staten1ent were true, but actually to accept. and
believe it. This is not nnfrequently instanced in our
dl'alings with other"s, when we feel it right, ill spite of
our lni
gi\"ing
, to oblige ourselves to believe their
honesty. Anù in aU these ùplicatp questions there is
constant call for the exercise of the Illative Sense.

CH
\PTER x.

IXFERE
CE AXD A

E
T IX THE 1fATTER OF
RELIGION.

AND now' I have con1pleted tHY review of tbe seconr1
subject to which I have given my attention in this
E:5:-:ay, the connexion existing beh,.een the intellectual
acts of A

ent and ]uferpllce, lUY fÌl.
t being the con-
nexioll of A

('nt with ,1-\ pprehcnsioll; and as I closed
ll1Y renulrks upon _\S
E'nt and.A pprehension by applying
the conclusions at ,yhich I had arrived to onr belief in
the Truths of Religion, so now I ought to
peal., of its
EviJences, heforp quitting tbe cOll
ideration of tbe
dcpenùcnce of _.\.
sent upon Iuference. I shall attelnpt
to do so in this Cha pter, not without llluch anxiety, lest
I should injure so largp, mOIllentous, and sacred fit
subject by a nece

arily cursory treatn1pnt.
I begin with expre
sing a sentilllent, which is habi-
tually in my thoughts, wheucyer they are turned to the
subject of Inental or moral science, and ,,
hich I am as
'willing to apply here to the Evidences of Rcligion as it
properly applies to
letaphysics or Ethics, viz. that in
these provinces of inquiry egotism is true modesty. In

IllferC1lce and Asscnt Ùl l?ell

ioJl. 385

religions inquiry each of 11:::-; can speak only for him
elft
and for hitnself he hd.S n. right to speak. Iris OW11
experiences are enough for hi III self, but he canuot
speak for others: he cannot lay clown the law; he can
only bring his o,vn experiences to the COIlllnon :-;tock
of p
ychological facts. He kno,vs what has satisfied
anù satisfies himself; if it satisfies him, it is likely to
satisfy others; if, as he believes and is sure, it is true,
it will approve itself to others also, for there is but
one truth. And doubtless he does find in fact, that,
allowing for the difference of n1Ïnùs and of modes of
f;peech, what 00llvinces hiln, does convince others also.
'rhcre will be very lllany exceptions, but these win
adlnit of explanation. Great nutnbers of men refuse
to inquire at all; they put the subject of religion
aside aItogE'ther; others are not serious enough to
care about questions of truth and duty and to entertain
them; and to numbers, froln their tetnper of lllind, or
the ab
ence of doubt, or a dorlnant intellect, it does not
occur to inquire why or what they believe; manr,
though they tried, would Dot be able to do so in any
satisfactory way. This being the case, it causes no U11-
easine
s to anyone who honcstly attempts to set down
his O\VI1 view of the Evidences of Religion, t11at at
first sight he
eelns to bp but one among nlany who
are all in uppo:-\itiun to each other. But, however that
luay be, he brings together his reasons, and relies on
them, because they are his own, and this is his prirnary
pvitlence; antI he has a seconù ground of evidence, in
the t
tilllOn\. of those who aCfJ'ee \vith him. But his
. -='
b
st evidence is tbe fonner, which is dL\l'i ved frolll hi

c c

386 Inference a1ld ASSt'llt in Religion.

()wn thoughts; and it is that which the world has u
right to demand of him; and therefore his true
sobriety and n10desty consists, not in claÏlnil1g for his
.conclusions an acceptance or a scientific approval
,,,hich is not to be found any 'v here, but in stating
what are personally his own grounds for his belief in
Natural and Revealed l
p]igion,-grounds \vhich he
holds to be so sufficient, that he thinks that others do
hold tLCJll implicitly or in sub
tallee, or would hold
thenl, if they inquired fairly, or will hold if they listen
to him, or do not hold froll1 inlpcdinlents, invincible or
110t as it lDa)' Le, into which be has no call to inquire.
IIowever, Ilis own bu
iness is to speak for him
elf. He
nses th
,,"ords of the S:llllaritans to their country-
"'Oll1an, when our Lord had reuJêlineù "Tith thelu for
t,YO days, "Now we Lelieve, not for thy sayÜlg, for we
have heard IIiJn our::;elves, and know that this is ill-
.deed the 8aviour of the ,vorl d."
In these 'words it is declared both that tbe Gospel
I
evelation i!S divine, and that it carries with it the
evidence of its divinity; and this is of course the
matter of fact. However, these two attributes neeJ
not have bepn united; a revelation might havp been
really given, yet givt n ,vithout credentials. Our
8nprelne ]'Iaster might have impartpd to us truths
'which nature cannot teaeh us, without telling us that
lIe had imparted them,-as is actually the case no,v as
regards heathen countries, into ,,,,hich portions of re-
vealed truth overflow and penetrate, without thpir
'Jopulations knowing whence those truths came. But
the very idea úf CI11'istia11ity in its profession alid

IJlfi'reJlce Ll111l Assl'Jlt 11l Rcligion.

"8

...) I

hiRtory, is something more than this; it is a " Iteve-
latio revelata;" it is a definite message from God to
luall distinctly conveyeù by !lis chosen instrulncnt
,
anù to be recei ved a,

uch a message; and therefore
to be positively acknowledged, em braced, and main-
tained as true, on the ground of its being divine, Dot
nS true on intrinsic grounds, not as probably true, or
partially true, but as absolutely certain knowledge,
certain in a sense in 'which nothing else can be certain,
because it COllIes from Hirn w'Lo neither can deceive
nor be deceived.
..And the whole tenor of Scripture from beginning
to enJ is to this effect: the matter of revelation is not
a mere collection of truths, not a philosophical vie\\",
not a religious sentiment or spirit, not a special
morality,-poured out upon mankind as a streanl
1J1Ïght pour itself into the sea, mixing with the world'

thought, modifying, purifying, invigordting it i-but
an authoritative teaching, \vhich bears witness to itself
finù keeps itself together as one, in contrast to the
assC'mblagp of opinion::; on all sides of it, and speaks
to alllnen, as being ever and everywhere one and the

ame, and claiming to be received intelligcntly, by
all ,,
honl it aJdl'esses, as one J.octrine, discipline, and
devotion ùirectly given frorn above. III consequence,
the exhibition of crpdentials, that is_, of evidence, that
it is what it professes to be, i
essential to Christianity,
as it comes to us; for we are not left at liberty to pick
and choose out of its contents according to our judg-
Jnent, but 111ust receive it all, as we find it, if we
accept it at all. It is a religion ill add.:tion to the
c c

388 Inference and
lsSCJlt in Religioll.

religion of nature; and as nature has an intrinsic claim
upon us to be obeyed and used, so what is over and
above nature, or supernatural, Inust also bring ,vith it
valid testimonials of its right to demand our homage.
Next, as to its relation to nature. As I have said,
Christianity is simply an addition to it; it does not
su persede or contradict it; it recognizes and depends
on it, and t.hat of necessity: for how possibly can it
prove its clailns except by an appeal to what tHen
have already? be it ever so miraculous, it cannot dis-
pense ,vith nature; this ,,
ould be to cut the grounù
from uuder it; for what woulù be the ,vorth of evi-
dences in fayour of a revelation which denied the au-
thority of that system of thought, anù those courses
of rea
oning, out of ,vhich those evidences neccs:5arily
grew ?
And in agreement with this obvious conclusion we
find in Scripture our Lord and His Apostles alw.ays
treating Christianity as the conlpletion and supplement
of Katural Religion, and of previous revelations; as
,vhen lIe says that tbe Father testified of Him; that
not to know Rim ,vas not to know the Father; and
as St. Paul at ..1thens appeals to the" Unknow.n God,"
and says that" He that made the world" "now Je-
c1areth to all men to do penance, because He hath ap-
pointed a day to judge the worJd by the man whom
He hath appointed." .As then our Lord and Ifis
Apostles app<:al to the God of nature, ,ve must follow
them in that appeal; and, to do this with the better
effect, we must first inquire into the chief doctrines
a Itd the grounds of Natural Re1igion.

.ATatural ReligÙJJl.

389

1. NATURAL RELIGION.

By Religion I mean the knowledge of God, of IIis
\V 111, and of our duties towards Him; and there are
three main channels which Nature furnishes for our
acquiring this kno,vledge, viz. our own minds, the
voice of 11lankind, and the course of the world, that is,
of hun1all lifo and human affairs. The informations
which these three convey to us teach us the Being and
Attributes of God, our responsibility to Him, our
dependence on Him, our prospect of reward or pun-
ishment, to be sOlncho\v brought about, according as
've obey or disobey Hill1. And the most authoritative
of these three means of knowledge, as being specially
our own, i8 our own mind, whose informations give us
the rule by which we test, interpret, and correct what
is presented to us for belief, whether' by the universal
testimony of mankind, or by the history of society and
of the world.
Our great internal teacher of religion is, as I have
said in an earlier part of this Es
ay, our Conscience. 1
Conscience is a personal guide. alid I use it because
I must use myself: I am as little able to think bv

1 Supra, p. 105, &c. ride also Univ. Serm. ii. 7-13.

390 I/lfereuce and A ssellt ill Religioll.

any nllUÙ but my o,vn as to breathe ,vith another'"
lungs. Conscience is nearer to me than any other
Ineans of knowle(lge. And as it is given to me, so
also is it giv
n to ot11crs; and bping carried about
hy every individual in his o"'n brt'fist, and requiring
nothing he
id.es itself, it i
thus adapted for the curll-
n1unication to each separately of that kno'wledge which
is most 1110melltous to him individua1ly,-adaptec1 for
tbe use of all classes and conditions of men, for high
and lo\y, young and old, men ëlnd ,yornen, inJepend-
cntly of Lools, of educated reasoning, of physical
knowledge, or of philosuphy. Conscienèe, too, teaches
us, not only that God is, but ,vhat He is; it provides
for the lnintl a real image of Hirn, as a medium of
,vorship; it gives us a rule of right anù ,vrong, as
being IIis rule, and. a, code of moral duties. :ßIore-
over, it is so constituteJ that., if obeyed, it becomes
clearer in its inj unctions, and wider in their range,
and corrects anù completes the accidental feebleness of
its initial teaching:s. Conscience, then, considered as
our guide, is fully furnished for its office. I say all
this \vitbout entering into the question how far external
a
sistances are in a1l cases necessary to the action of
the mind, because in tact man does not live in isolation,
but is ev'erywhere found as a member of society; I am
not concerned here with abstract questions.
Now Conscience suggests to u
rnanythings ahout that

[aster, ,,,horn by llleans of it ,ve perceivp, but its most
prominent teaching, and its cardinal and distinguishing
truth, is that he is our Judge. In consequence, the
special Attribute under which it brings Hinl before us,

IValural Religion.

39'

to ,vhich it subordinates all other ..Attl'ibutes, is that
of justice-retributive justice. 'Ve learn from its
illforlnationg to conceive of the Almighty, primarily,
nut as a God of 'Visdom, of Know ledge, of Power, of
Benevolence, but as a God of Judgment and Justice;
as One} "rho, not sinlply for the good of the offender,
but as an end good in itself, and as a principle of
government, ordains that the offender should suffer for
his offence. If it tells us anything at all of the charac-
teristics of the Divine
lind, it certainly tells us this;
and, considering that our shortcomings are far more
frequent and important than our fulfilment of the
duties enjoined upon us, and that of this point we are
fully aware ourselves, it follows that the aspect under
,,-hich .Alnlighty God is presented to us by Nature, is
(to use a figure) of One who is angry wit.h us, and
threatens evil. lIence its effect is to burden and
sadden the religious n1Ïnd, and is in contrast with the
enjoyment derivable from the exercise of the affections,
anù froll1 the perception of beauty, whether in the
luaterial universe or in the creations of the intellect.
rrhis is that fearful antagonislll brought out with such
soul-piercing reality by Lucretius, when he speaks so
dishonourably of what he considers the heavy yoke of
religion, and the cc æternas prenas in morte timen-
ùum ;" and, on the other hand, rejoices in his" Alma
\r CHUS," " quæ rerum naturam sola gubernas." And
we may appl'al to him for the fact, while we repudiate
his view of it.
Such being the primâ facie a
pect of religion which
t he teachings of Conscience bring before us individu-

"' 9 '>
..) -

Inferellce and A SSCllt ill Religion.

ally
in the next place let us consider \vbat are the
doctrines, and what the influences of religion, as we
find it enlbodied in those various rites anù devotions
which }lave taken root in the nInny races of ulankind,
since the beginning of history, aud before history, all
over the earth. Of the
e also Lucretius gives us a
specin1en; and they accord in forIn and cOlnplexion
with that doctrine about duty and re
ponsibility, \vhich
he so bitterly 11ates and loathes. It i
,
carcely necessary
to insist, that wherever Religion exists in a popular
s11ape, it has a1most invariably worn its dark side out-
wards. It is founded in one way or other on the sense
of sin; and without that vivid sense it would hardly
have any precepts or any observances. Its many
varieties all proclaim or imply that man is in a degraded,
servile condition, and requires expiation, reconcilia-
tion, and some great change of nature. This is sug-
gested to us in the many ways in which ,ve are told of
a realm of light and a realm of darkness, of an elect
fold and a regenerate state. It is suggested in the
almost ubiquitous and ever-recurring institution of a
Priesthood; for wherever there is a priest, there is the
notion of sin, pollution, and retribution, as, on the
other hand, of intercession and nlediation. Also, still
more directly, is the notion of our guilt impressed ·
upon us by the doctrine of future punishment, and
that eternal, which is founù in mythologies and creeds
of such various parentage.
Of these distinct rites and doctrines embodying the
severe side of Natural Religion, the n10st remarkable
is that of atonement, that is, " a substitution of some-

AT a/ltrallr.eligioll.

393

thing vffered, or some personal suffering, for a penalty
which would otherwise be exacted;" most renlarkable,
I say, both from its close connexion with the notion of
vicarious satisfaction, and, on the other hand, from its
universality. "The practice of atoneinent," says the
author, whose definition of the word I have just given,
" is remarkable for it
antiquity and universality, proved
by the eal.liest records that have come down to us of all
nations, and by the testimony of ancient and modern
travellers. In the oklest books of the Hebrew Scrip-
tures, 'Vè have numerous instances of expiatory rites,
,vhere atonement is the prolninent feature" L\.t the
earliest date, to which we can carry our inquiries by
lueans of the heathen records, we meet with the same
notion of atonement. If .we pursue our inquiries througb
the accounts left us by the Greek and Roman ,vriters of
the barbarous nations with which they were acquainted,
from India to Britain, ,ve shall find the saIne notions
and silnilar practices of atonerllent. Fronl the Inost
popular portion of our own literature, our narratives
of voyages and travels, everyone, probably, who reads
at all will be able to find for hilnself abundant proof that
the notion has been as perlnanent as it is universal.
It shows itself among the various tribes of Africa, the
i:51a1lders of the South Seas, and even that most pecuJiar
race, the natives of Australia, either in the sbape of
some offering, or some n1utiIation of the per:son."

These cerernonial acknowledgments, in so many
distinct forms of worship, of the existing degradation
of the human race, of course imply a brighter. as wpll
I PelH1!J c.lIclopædia, art. ,( Atonement" (ahridgl'tl).

39-+ Illfcrt'IlCe a1ld Assellt in Jtetigioll.

as a threatening aspect of K atural Religion; for why
should mell adopt any rites of deprecation or of purifi-
cation at all, unle:5s they had some hope of attaining to
a. better conùit ion tlulll their present? Of this happier
side of religion I will speak presently; here, however, a
question of another kind oceurs, viz. ,vhetbel' the notion
of atonell1ent can be adn1Ïtted alnong the doctrines
of NaturalI1eligion,-1 nlpan on thp grounù that it is
inconsistent with those teachillgR of Conscience, ,vhich
I have recognized above, as the r111e and corrective of
every other information on tho subjf'ct. If there is any
truth brought home to us by conscience, it is this, that
'ye are }Jer
onally responsible for what we do, that ,va
have no Inea.ns of shifting our responsibility, and that
dereliction of duty involves punishment; how, it nlay
be asked, can acts of ours of any kind-how can even
amendnlent of life-undo the past? And if even our
own sub::;equent acts of obedience bring with them no
promise of reversing what has once been committed,
how can external rites, or the actions of another (as of
a priest), be substitutes for that punishment which is the
connatural fruit and intrinsic developlnent of violation
of the'sense of duty? I think this objection avails as
far as this, that amendment is no reparation, and that
no ceremollies or penances can in themselves exerci
e
any vicarious virtue ill our behalf; and that, if they
avail, they only avail in the intermediate season of
probation; that in some ,yay ,ve nlust make them our
own; anJ that, \V hen the tin1e COllles, which conscience
forebodes, of our heing called to judgment, then, at
least, ,ve shan have to stand ill and by ourselves, what-

i\ 9alural Religion.

395

pver we sl)a11 have by that time becon1e, and n1ust bear
onr own burden. But it is plain that in this final
account, as it lies between us and our
Ia
ter, lIe alone
can Jecil1c how the past anll the pre:5ent will ßtand
together ".ho is our Creator and our Judge.
III thu8 luaking it n nece::;
al'Y point to adjust the
religiJIls of the world ,vith the intimations of our
con
ciellce, I atn sugge
ting the rea
on why I confinp
Inyself to such religions as have had their rise in
barbarous time
, and do not recognize the religion of
what i::; callcù civilization, as having legitilnately a
part in the delineation of Xatural Religion. It lllayat
first sight seem strange, that, consiùering I ha\ge laid
such stress upon the prugres:5ive nature of man, I
should take lUY ideas of his religion from his initial,
and not his final te
tilnony about its doctrines; and it
may be urged that the religion of civilized times is
quite opposite in character to the rites and tradition3
of barharians, and hns nothing of that glOOll1 "and

ternne
8, on which I have insisted as their character-
istic. rrhus the Greek
I.YthoIogy ,vas for the lnost
part cheerful and graceful, and its ne\V goc.1s certainly
more genial and indulgent than the old one
. And, in
like luallner, the religion of philo8opby is more noble
and 1nore huulane than those primitive conceptions
which 'v ere sufficient for early kings anù ,varriors.
But my answer to this objection is obvious: the
progress of which man's nature is capable is a.
development, Dot a destruction of its origin.tl state;
it lllust sub
erve the eleillents from which it proceeds,
in order to 1e a true developulent aud not a per-

396 I/lfirt:Jlce all,i A SSCllt ill Religion.

version.:4 And those popular rituals do in fact su b-
8erve and cOlnplete that nature with ,vhiûh man is
born. It is otherwise ,vith the religion of so-called
civilization; such religion does but contl'aàict the
religion of barhari
lu; and since t.his civilization
itself is llot a develoPluent of In an 's whole nature,
l)ut Inaillly of the . ntellect, recognizing indeed the
lnor
11 sensp, but ignoring the conscience, no wonder
that the rl-'ligion in which it issues has no sYlupathy
either with the hopes and fears of the awakened soul,
or with those frightful presentiments whicl1 are ex-
pre
""l'd in the worship and traditions of the heathen.
ffhis
Irtificial religion, then, ha.s no place in the in-
quiry; first, becauðe it comes of a une-sided pro-
gress of mind,
t,nd next, for the very reason that it
contradicts infornlants ,vhich speak ,vith greater
authority than itself.
Now ,ve corne to the third natural informant on the
subject of Religion; Ilnean the system and the course
of the \Vorld. rrhis established order of things, in which
'ye find ourselves, if it has a Creator, must surely speak
of His will in its broad outlines and its 11laln is
ues. This
principle being laid down as certain, when ,ve come to
apply it to things as they are, our first feeling is one of
surprise and (I may Ray) of dismay, that His control
of this living world is 80 indirect, and His action so
obscure. rrhis is the first lesson that we gain fron1
the course of hurnan affairs. 'Vhat strikes the u1Ïl1d
o

S On these various subjects I have written in " U ni\"crsity Sermons"
(Oxford), So. ,oi. "Idl:a of the University," Disc. viii. "History of
Turks'" ch. iv. "Dt>velopment of Doctrine," ch. i. sect. 3.

iVall/'rat Religioll.

397

fOl'cil)l
' and so painfully is, IIis aL
ence (if Inlay f'O
speak) frnlllllis own world.
It is a
ilence that
peak
.
1 t i
as if others }uld got posses::;ion of His work.
"hy does not lIe, our )'laker and Ruler, give us
sorne irumediate knowledge of Jlirnself? 'Vhy does
lIe not write His )loral :Nature in large letters upon
the face of history, and bring the blinù, tUIllUltUOUS
rush of its events into a celestial, hierarchical order?
""'hy does IIe not grant us in the structure of society
at least so n1uch of a revelation of Hin1self as the
religions of the heathen attempt to supply? 'Vhy
fronl the beginning of tinle has no one uniform steady
light guided all families of the earth, and all individual
men, how to plcase Him? "\Vhy is it possible without
absurdity to deny His will, His attributes, His exist-
E'llce? \Vhy dc.es lIe not walk with us one by one, ag
no is said to have walked with His chosen men of old
titue? "\Ve both see and kno\v each other; why, if \,"""6
cannot have the sight of Him. lIa ve we not at least the
kno\vledge ? On the contrary, He is specially" a
1liJden God ;" and with our best efforts we can only
glean from the surface of the world some faint and
fragn1f'l1tal'Y views of Him. I see only a choice of
alternatives in explanation of so critical a. fact :-either
there is no Creator, or He has disowned His creature
.

\re then the Jim shadows of I-lis PH
sence in the amtirs
of men but a fancy of our own, or, on the other hand,
ha
ITe hiJ IIis face and the light of Hi
Coulltl\lUtllCe,
because ,ve have in SOlne special way disholloured Hirll ?

r y true illforlÜal1t, my burdened con
cieuce, gi \'e
we

· ride" ApologÏ3," p. :!.u.

398 Inferc1lce and Asscnt in Religion.

at once thf\ true an
,yer to each of thE:'sC antagonist
questions :-it pronounces without any nlisgiving that
God exists :-aud it pronounces quite as surely that I
am alienated froin JIiIn; that U His hand is not short-
ened, but tbat our iniquities have di viùed between us
anù onr God." Thus it solves the world's nlystery,
and sees ill that Inystpryonly a confirmation of its o,,'n
origina I teaching.
Let us pas
on to another grpat fact of expc,'ience,
bearing on Religion, which confirms this testirnony both
of consciencl' alld of the orU1S of worship wbich pre-
vail alllong Inaukilld j-l IHean, the alnonnt of I'uffer-
ing, bodily and rnental, which is out' portion in this life.
Not only is the Creator far off, but son1e being of lua-
ligllant nature see IllS, as I have said, to have got hold
()r us, and to be makiug Us his sport. Let us say there
are a thousand n1Ïllions of n1en un the earth at this
titne; "ho can weigh and measure the aggregate of
pain which this one generation has endured and "1i11
enuure fron1 birth to death? rrhen add to this aU the
pain which has fallen and will fall upon our race
through centuries past and to come. Is there not then
-some great gulf fixed bctween us nnd the good God?
11ere again the testimony of the systetn of nature is
more than corroborated by those popular traditions
about the unseen statp, which are found in n1ythologies
and
uperstitions, ancient and Inodern; for those tra-
.ditions speak, not only of present misery, but of pain
and evil hcreafter, anù even ,vithout
n(l. But this

lreadful addition is not necessary for the conclusion
"hich I am hcre ,vishing to dra \V. The real lny
tery

iVatural Religioll.

399

is, Dot t1Ult evil sbould never havl
an end, but that it
should ever have had a heginning. Even a universai
restitution could not undo \vbat had been, or account
for evii being the nec
ssary condition of good. Ho'\v
are we to explain it, the existence of God being
taken for granted, except by sa)'ing that another
,,,ill, be
ide
His, has had a part in the di
position
of Tlis \vork, that tbere is a quarrel without remedy,
a chronic alienation, between God and man?
I have implied that the laws on ,vhich this ,vorld is
governed do not go so far as to prove that evil ,viII
never die out of the creation; neverthele:5s, they look
in that direction. :x 0 experience indeed of life can
as
ure us about the future, but it can and docs give us
nleans of conjecturing what is likely to be; and those
conjectures coincide with our natural forebodings.
Experience enables us to ascertain the moral consti tu.
tion of man, and thereby to pres3ge his future fronl
his pre
ent. It teaches us, first, that he is not suffi-
cient for his own happiness, but is dependent upon the
sensible objects which surround him, and that these
he cannot take \vith hin1 when he leaves the ,yorld;
secondly, that disobedience to his sense of right is even
by itself Inisery, and that he carries tbat misery about
bim, where\"cr he is, though 110 divine retribution fol-
lowed upon it; and thirdly, that he cannot change his
nature aud his habits by ,vishing, but is simply hin1self,
and wi11 ever be hiulself and what he now' is, ,vherever
he is, as long a
he cont;nues to be,-or at least that
})ain has no na tural tendency to 111ake him other than he
is, and that the 10ngcI" he live
, the more difficult he i
to

400 Infere1lce Glut A sseJlt 'in RCligion.

ehange. IIow can we Illeet these not irrational antici.
pations, except by shutting our eyes, turning a,vay from
theIn, und saying that we have no call, no right, to think
of them at present, or to make ourselves Iniserable
about 'what is not certain, and may be not true? " S
Such is the ::;evere aspect of
atural Religion: also
it i
the Inost proniinent aspect, because the multitude
of men follo,v their OWll likings and ,vilIs, and not the
decisions of their sen
e of right and wrong. To them
Heligion is a luere yoke, as Lucretius de
cribe
it; not
a satisfaction or refuge, but a terror and a superstition.
Ho,veve
, I must not fOl' all instant be supposed to
tnean, that this is its on1y, its chicf
or its legitimate
aspect. All Religion, so far a,g it is genuine, is a
blessing, Natural as well as Revealed. I have insisted
on its severe aspect in the first place, because, frolll
the circumstances of human nature, though not by the
fault. of Religion, such is the shape in which we first
eneounter it. Its large and deep foundation is the
sen
e of sin and guilt, and ".ithout this sense there is
for man, as he is, no genuine religion. Otherwise, it
is but counterfeit and hollow; and that is the reason
why this so-called religion of civilization and philoso-
phy is so great a mockery. However, true as this
judgInent is which I pass on phi1o
ophical religion,
and troubled as are the existing relations between God
aHd Ulan, as both the voice of mankind and the facts
of Di\"ine Governluent testify, equally true are other
.
gèneral laws which govern those relations, and they
speak another language, and cOInpensate for what i

6 ride" Cnllista," ch. xix.

llatural Rtligio1t.

4 01

stern in the teaching of nature, without tending to
deny that sternness.
'rho first of these laws, relieving the aspect of Natural
Religion, is the very fact that religious beliefs and in-
stitutions, of sozne kind or other, are of
uch general
acceptance in all times and places. """"hy should men
subject themselves to the tyranny ,vhich Lucretius de-
l1ounces, unless they had either experience or hope of
benefits to themselves by so doing? Though it be
mere hope of benefits, that alone is a great alleviation
of the gloom and misery which their religious rites
presuppose or occasion; for thereby they have a pros-
pect, more or less clear, of some happier state in reserve
for them, or at least the chances of it. If they simply
despaired of their fortunes, they would not care about
religion. And hope of future good, as we know,
s\veetel1S all suffering.
1\Ioreover, they have an earnest of that future in the
real and recurring blessings of life, the enjoyment of
tho gifts of the earth, and of domestic affection and
social intercourse, which is sufficient to touch and to
subdue even the most guilty of men in his better
11l0ments, reminding him that he is not utterly cast off
by TIiIl1 whom nev'ertheless he is not given to know.
Or, in the Apostle's words, though the Creator once
" suffered aU nations to \valk in theil. o'vn ,vays," still,
cc lie left not Himself without testimony, doing gooù
from heaven, giving rains and fruitful seasons, filling
our hearts with food and gladness."
Nor are these blessings of physical nature the only
tokens in tùc Divine System, which In that heathen
D d

402 Inference and A sse71t in Rc liglo1z.

tilllC, and indeed in every age, bring home to onr ex-
perience the fact of a Good God, in spite of the tumult
anù confusion of the ,vorld. It is possible to give au
interpretation to the course of things, by which every
event or occurrence in its order becomes }Jrovidential :
anù though that interpretation does not hold good un-
..
less the ,vorld is contemplated from a particular point
of vie"r, in one gi\-en aspect, and with cprtain inward
expcrienc8s, and per
onal first principles and judg-
ments, yet these may be fairly pronounced to be com-
nlon conditions of human thought, that is, till they are
wilfully or accidentally lost; and they issue in fact, in
leading the g
eat majority of men to recognize the
IIand of unseen power, directing in mercy or in judg-
D1ent the physical and moral systeln. In the pro-
minent events of the ,,'orld, past and contemporary,
the fate, evil or happy, of great men, the rise and faU
of states, popular revolutions, decisive battles, the
migration of races, the replenishing of the earth, earth-
quakes and pestilences, critical discoveries and inven-
tions, the history of philosophy, the advancement of
knowledge, in these the spontaneous piety of the
human mind discerns a Divine Supervision. Na.y,
there is a general feeling, originating directly in the
,,'orkillgs of conscience, that a similar governance is
extended over the persons of individuals, who thereby
both fulfil the purposes and receive the just recom-
penses of an Omnipotent Providence. Good to the
good, anJ evil to the evil, is instinctively felt to be,
even from what ,ve see, amid 'whatever obscurity and
confusion, the universal rule of God's dealings with us.

Natural Relig/on.

4 0 3

lIence come the great proverhs, i.ndigenous In both
Chri
tian and heathen nations, that punishment is
sure, though slo,v, that Tl1urder ,vill out, that treason
never prospcr
, that pride will have a fall, that honesty
is the best policy, and that curses faU on the head
of
those ,vho utter them. fro the unsophisticateil appre-
hension of the nlfiny, the successive passages of life,
social or politicaì, are so many miracles, if that iR to
lJC accounted miraculous \vhich brings before tbem the
il11lnediate ))ivine Presence; anù shaulù it be objected
that this is an illogical exercise of reason, I answer,
that since it actuaHy brings them to a right conclusion,
and was intended to bring them to it, if logic finùs
fault with it, so much the ,vorse for logic.
Again, prayer is essential to religion, and, where
prayer is, there is a natUTal relief and solace in all
trouble, great or ordinary: now prayer is not less
general in mankinJ at large than is faith in Provi-
dence. It has ever heen in U!3e, both as a personal anJ
hS no social practice. Here again, if, in order to deter-
mine what the Religion of Nature is, we may justly
have recourse to the spontaneous acts and proceedings
of our race, as vie'wed on a large .field, 've may safely
say that prayer, as well as hope, is a constituent of
Tnau's religion. Xor is it a fair objection to this
argunlent J to say that such prayers anù rites as have
obtained in various places and time
, are in their cha-
racter, objC\,t, and scope inconsistent with each other;
because their
ontrarieties do not come into the idea of
religion, as such, at aU, and the very fact of their dis-
corLlance destroys their right to bo taken into account,
D d

4 0 4 Illf
rcJlcc and Asscnt ill Religion.

so far as they arc discordant; for what is not universal
has no claim to be considered natural, right, or of
divine origin. Thus "Te Inay determine prayer to be
part of Natural Religion, from such instances of the
usage as are supplied by the priests of Baal and by
dancing Dervishe
,vithout therefore including in our
notions of prayer the frantic excesses of the one, or
the artistic spinning of the other, or sanctioning their
respective objects of belief, Baal or l\Iahomet.
....
s prayer is the voice of man to God, so Revelation
is the voice of God to ll1an. Accordingly, it is another
alleviation of the darkness and distress ,vhich weigh
upon the religions of the world, that in one way or
ot her such religions are founded on some idea of ex-
press re
;elation, cOtning fronl the unseen agents whose
anger they deprecate; nay, that the very rites and
obsprvances, by which they hope to gain the favour of
these being
, are by these beings themselves COlnmu-
nicated and appointed. '
rhe l{e1igion of Nature has not
heen a deduction of reason, or the joint, voluntary n1alli-
fcsto of a tnultitude meeting together and pledging
thernsclves to each other, as men move resolutions
no". for some political or social purpose, but it has been
a traùition or an interposition vouchsafed to a people
from above. 'fo such an interposition men even as-
('ribeù their civil polity or citizenship, which diel not
originato in any plebiscite, but in dii 1ninores or heroes,
anù was inauguratcù ,vith portents or palladia, and pro-
tected ana prospered by oracles null auguries. Herc is
all evitlencc, too, ho\y congcuial the notion of a revela-
tion is to th0 human mind, so that the expectation of

Natural Religioll.

4 0 5

it may truly be considered an integral part of Natural
l{eIigion.
Among the observances imposed by these professed
revelations, none is more relnarkable, or nlore general,
than the rite of sacrifice, in ,vhich guilt was rell10ved or
blessing gaincd by au offering, which fiyaileJ instead of
the Inerits of the offerer. This, too, as 'well as the notion
of divine interpositions, may be considered almost an
integral part of the Religion of Nature, and an allevia-
tion of its glooln. But it does not stand Ly itself; I
have already spoken of the doctrine of atollerncllt,
uuùer which it falls, and ,vhicb, if ,,,hat is universal is
natural, cntcrs into the idea of religiou:-:;
ervicc. Ana
w hat tho nature of Ulan suggests, the providential
system of tho world sanctions by enforcing. It is the
hnv, or the permission, given to our ,vhole race, to u
e
the _\postle's word:;;, to " Lear one another's burdens ;"
and this, as I said ,,,hen on the subject of ..Atonement,
is quite consistent ,vith his antithesis that U everyone
11111St bear his own burden." rfhe final burden of
rpsponsibility when ,ve are caIled to judgment is onr
()wn; but ap10ng the Inedia by which ,ve are pl'epareù
for that judgment are the exertions find pains takcn
in our behalf by others. On this vicarious principle,
hy which we appropriate to ourselves what others do
for us, the whole structure of society is raised.
})arents ,york and endure pain, that their children
may prosper; children suffer for the sin of their
parents, who ha\Y8 died before it bore fruit. " Deli-
rant reges, plectuntur Achivi." Sometil11es it ]s a
compubory, sOInctilnes a \vil1ing mediation. The

406 lllfcl C1lee and A SSCllt l.ll l?eligiolZ.

punishn1(
nt ,vhich is earned by the husbanù falls upon
t.he ,,,ifo; tho benefits in ,yhich all classes partake are
,vrought out by tbe unhealthy or dangerous toil of
the few. Soldiers endure wounds and death for those
who sit at home; and nlinisters of state faU victin1s
to their z0al for their countrYlnon) ,,,bo do little else
than criticize their 7Lctions. And so in SOllIe llleasure
or 'V
LY this law enlbrace:s all of us. "'\Ve all suffer for
each other, and gain by each other's sufferings; for
lHan never stanùs alone here, though he will stanù by
hill1self one day hereafter j but here he is a social
heing, and goes forward to his long home as one of ë1
]arge company.
Butler, it need scarcely be said, is the great 1l1aster
of this doctrine, as it is brought out in tbe system of
nature. In ans\ver to the objection to the Christian
doctrine of satisfaction, that it "represents God as
illllifferent whether He punishes the innocent or the
guilty," he oLservcs that" the worlù is a constitution
or system, \vhose parts hayp a n1utual reference to
each other; and that there is a scheme of things
gradually carrying on, caUed the course of nature, tu
the carrying on of ,vhich God has appointed us, in
various ways, to contribute. And in the daily course
of natural providence, it is appointed that innocent
people should suffer for the faults of the guilty.
Finally, indeed and upon the whole, everyone shall
receive according to his personal deserts j but during
the progress, and, for ought ,ve know, even in order
to the completion of this moral scheme, vicarious
l)unisblncnts may be fit, and absolutely necessary.

Natural Religion.

4 0 7

'Ve see in what variety of ,vays one person's sufforings
contribute to the relief of another; and being familiar-
i, etl to it, men are not shocked with it. So the rea
on
of thcir insisting on objections against the [doctrine
of] satisfaction is, either that they do not consiiler
God's sottled and uniform appointtuents as Ilis ap-
pointments at all; or else they forget that vicarious
punishment is a providential appointnlent of every day's
expcricnce." ð I ,vill but add, that, since an lUllllan
suffering is in its last resolution the punishment of sin,
and punishn1ent iU1p1ies a Judgo and a rule of justice,
he who undergoes the punishnlent of another in his
stead may be said in a certain sense to satisfy the
claims of justice to,yards that other in his own person.
One concluding relnark has to be Inade here. In all
sacrifices it was specially required that tbe thing offered
should be something rare, and unb1en1Ïshed; and in like
l.J1anner in all atonenlonts and aU satisfactions, not only
wa
the innocent taken for the guilty, but it was a point
of special importance that the victim should be spotless,
and the more manifest that spotlessness, the luore effica-
cious ,vas the
acrifice. This leads me to a last principle
which I shall notice ItS proper to Natural Religion, and
fiS lightening the prophecies of evil in which it is
founded; 1 nlean the doctrine of meritorious inter-
ceS
lon. r.ehe man in the Gospel diel but speak for the
human race everywhere, ,vhen he said, "God hearpth
Dot sinners; but if a man be a worshipper of God,
and doth His ,viII, him He bearcth." lIence every
religion bas had its eminent devotees, exalted abovo
I ".ADalo
YI" Pt. ii. cb. 5 (abridged).

408 Illfire11Ce a1ld A ssellt Z.'l ReligioJl.

the body of the people, mortified men, brought nearer
to the Source of good by austerities, self-inflictions,
aud prayer, ,vho have influence with Him, and extend
a shelter and gain blessings for those who become
their clients. A belief like this has been, of course,
attended by nnmbe less superstitions; but those super-
stitions vary with times and places, and the belief itself
in the mediatorial power of the good and holy has
been one and the same everyw here. Nor is this
belief an idea of past times only or of heathen coun-
tries. It is one of the most natural visions of the
young and innocent. And all of us, the more keenly
we feel our own distance from holy persons, the more
are we dra 'vn near to them, as if forgetting that
distance, and proud of them because they are so un-
like ourselves, as being specimens of ,vhat our nature
may be, and with some vague hope that we, their
relations by blood, may profit in our own persons by
their holiness.
Such, then, in outline is that system of natural beliefs
and sentiments, which, though true and divine, is still
possible to us independently of Revelation, and is the
preparation for it; thou
h in Christians themselves it
cannot really be separated from their Christianity, and
never is possessed in its higher forlns in any people
without some portion of those in,vard aiùs which
Christianity imparts to us, and those endemic tradi-
tions which have their first origin in a paradisiacal
illumination.

'
cê.'calcd Religion.

4 0 9

2. RE\YEALED RELIGION.

IN determining, as above, the main features of Natural
l{eligion, and distinguishing it from the religion of
philosophy or civilization, I may be accused of having
takcn a course of my own, for which I have no sufficient
warrant. Such an accusation does not give me ll1uch
concern. Everyone who thinks on these subjects takes
a course of his own, though it will also happen to be the
course which others take besides himself. 'The minds
of many separately bear them forward in tho sanle direc-
tion, and they are confirmed in it by each other. This
I consiùer to be my o'vn caso; if I have nlis-stateù or
omittcd notorious facts in my account of Natural Reli-
gion, if I have contradicted or disL'cgarded anything
,vhich lie who speaks through my conscience has told
us aU directly from Heavcn, then indeed I have acted
unjuMtifiably and have something to unsay; but, if I
have done no nIore than view the notorious facts of the
case in the medium of my primary mental experiences,
under the aspects which they spontaneously present to
me, and ,vith the aid of my best illative sense, I only
do on one side of the question wLat those ,vho think
differently do on the othe1". As they start with one

4 10 Infercllce and A SSCllt in Relig'io1t.

set of first principles, I start with another. I gave
notico just no,," that I should offer my o,vn ,,"itness
in the D1atter in question; though of course it would
not be worth ,vhile Iny. offering it, unless what I felt
nl)"self agreed with what is felt by hundrpds and thou-
sands besiùes me,
s I am sure it does, ,vhatcver be the
Incasure, 11lore or les
, of their explicit recognition of it.
In thus speaking of Katural Religion as in one sense
fi 1natter of private judgment, and that with a view of
proceeding fr01n it to the proof of Christianity, I seem
to give up the intention of denlonstrating either. Cer-
tainly I do; not that I deny that deIllonstration is
pos
iLle. Truth certainly, as such, rests upon grounds
intrinsically finù objectively and abstractedly demon-
strative, but it does not follow fro In this that the
arguments producible in its favour are unans,verable
and irresistible. These latter epithets are relative, and
bear upon Iuattm.'s of fact; arguments in the111sel\"'os
ought to do, what perhaps in the particular case they call-
not do. 'rhe fact of revelation is in itself demonstrably
tl'U{\, but it is not therefore true irresistibly; else, ho\v
comes it to be resisted? There is a vast distance betwecn
what it is in itself, and what it is to us. Light is a
quality of matter, as truth is of Christianity; but ]ight
is not recognized by the blind, and there are those who
do not recognize truth, from the fault, not of truth, but
of themselves. I cannot convert n1cn, ,vhen I ask for
assumptions which they refuse to grant to me; and
without assumptions no one can prove anything about
anything.
I am suspicious then of scientific demonstrations in a

Rez'calcd ReligIon.

41 I

question of concreto fact, in a discussion between fal-
liblo l11en. IIo,vover, let those demonstrate who have
the gift; cc unusqnisquc in suo sensu abundet." }"or
me, it is more congenial to my own judgment to at-
tempt to prove Christianity in the same infornlal 'V:1Y
in which I can provo for certain that I have been born
into this ,vorld, and that I shall die out of it. It is
pleasant to my OWll feelings to folIow a theological
writer, such as .á.mort, who has dedicated to the great
Pope, Benedict Xl'...., what be caBs cc a new, modest,
and easy war of demonstrating the Catholic Religion."
In this work he adopts tbe argument D1ercly of tbe
greater probability; 1 I prefer to rely on tbat of an
accll1nulation ,of various probabilities; but we botb
hold (that is, I hold with him), that froln probabilities
'wo may construct legitimate proof, sufficient for cer-
titude. I follow him in holding, that, since a Good

1 "Scopus operis cst, planiorem Protestn.ntibus nperire ,"iam nd ,'cram
}
cclcsiam, Cùm enim llaetcnus Polcmici nostri insudarint toti in
df'lllonstrandis siuguli:; Ueligionis Catholicre n.rtieulis, in id ego unum
incumho, ut hree trin c\"incam. Primo: .Articulos fundamentales, Heli-
giOllis C.ttholicæ esse cvidcntcr eredibiliorcs oppositis, &c. &e. . . . .
])cmoustratio autcm hujus novæ ll1odestæ, ae faeilis vire, quâ ex artieulis
fUlldnmcnta
ibus solùm probaùi1ioribns U(l
truitl1r summa ncligioni

certitudo, bæe cst: De u!': , cùm sit sapiens ae prO\"idus, tenctur, Heli-

ionem à se rc\"elatam redùere evidelltl'r eredibiliorem rcligionibus falsis.
Imprudcnter cnim ,'dlet, suam Religionelll nb hominibus rccipi, nisi
eam redderet e\'identcr credibiliorem n'lig-ionibus cæteris. Ergo ilIa
rdigio, 'lure cst c\"idcntcr crl'dibilior cæteris, est ipsissima religio 0. Deo
revclata, adcoqllc c('rtissilllè vera, seu dcmonstro.ta. Atqui, &e. . . .
l\lotivr;,m aggrediendi l1ovall1 hane, modestam, ae fllcilem viam illud
præcipuum est, quúd obscr\"em, Protcstant.iulll plurimos post innumeros
concertatiollum lluctl1S, ill iis tandem consedisse sJrtibus, ut ercdullt,
nu!lam dari rc1ig-ioncm UlHì('C}uaque dl'l1lonstratam, &.c. . Uatioeiniis
denicJlIC oppollunt ratiocillia; præjudiciis Plæjmlicia c}., majoribus
6U;1," &..c.

4 12 Inference and Asscnt -i,l Rclz:g-ion.

}1rovidcnce watches over us, He blesses such means of
fil'guIIlent as it has pleased IIim to give us, in the
nature of man and of the ,vorld, if we use thern duly
for those ends for which He has given them; and that,
as in mathenuüics ,ye are justified by the dictate of
llaturc in ,vithholding our assent from a conclusion of
..
,vhich ,ve have not yet a strict logical den10nstration,
so by a like dictate ,,
c are not justified, in tIle case of
concrete reasoning and especially of religious inquiry,
in ,vaiting till such logical dClllon!'tration is our
, but
on the contrary are Lunnd ill con
cience to seck truth
aud to look for certainty by nloJes of proof, ,,'hich,
when )'cùl1ceJ to the shape of fornlal }Jl'opositions, fail
to sati:.;fy the severe ref} llisitious of science. 2
1Iel'e then at once is one Inornentous doctrine or prin-
ciple, which ent.ers into Iny own reasoning, and ,vhich
allothcr ignores, viz. the proviJence and intcratiun of
Goù; and of course there are other principles: explicit
or iU1plicit, which are in like circun1stance
. It is not
,vonùerful then, that, while I can prove Christianit.y

2 "Docet naturalij:; ratio, Deum, (IX ip"â, nnturfl bonitati
ne prO\'idcntiæ
sure, si yclit in mundo habere rcligiollcm }m1'3111, enmf]uc institucre ae
cOlIsrrvarc u8que in fÌncll1 11111111li, tencri ad emu rcligionem reddt'mlnm
c\'identer eredibiliorem He \'('ri
imi1iorem eæt<,ri
, &c. &c. . . . . Ex hoc
sequitur u1tcrins j certitudiuem moralem de \"t'râ Ecclesiâ ele,'nri posse
ad certitudine1l1 metaphysienm, f;i homo
Hh'ertat, eertitUllincm moralcm
absolutè fallibilem 8uhstare in mnteriâ religion is circn <'jus eonstitutiva
fUllllmJ1{'ntalia spcciali providclltiro diviuro, prroi;ervatrici nb omui errore.
. . . . Itaqnc homo semel ex scrie historic:J. netorum perduetus ad
moralcm cl'rtitudinf'm de nuctore, fundatione, propagatione, et con.
tinuatione Ecc1esiæ Christiauæ, per reflexionem ad e
istelltiam eertissi.
maIn proddcntiæ divinæ in muteriâ religionis, à priori lumille natllræ
ccrtitl1l1l11e 11lctaphJsicâ notam, eo ipso eadem infaUibili ecrtitudine
intelliget, nrgulhl'l1ta de auetore," &c.-Amort. Ethiea Chri-stiuna,
p. 252.

Rcvealed RcligioJz.

4 1 3

divine to my own satisfaction, I shall Dot be able to
fùrco it upon auyone else. :ßluItituùes indeed I ougl1t
to succepù in persuaùing of its truth without any force
at all, because they and I start froll1 the same princi-
rles, and what is a proof to me is a proof to them; but
if any ono starts from any othor principles but ours, I
Lave not the power to change his principles, or the con-
clusion which he draws from them, any l110re than I can
Illake a crooked Ulan straight. 'Vhethcr his mind will
ever gro,v straight, whether I can do anything towards
its becoming straight, whether he is not responsible,
responsible to his )Iaker, for being mentally crooked,
is another matter; still the fact renlains, that, in any
inquiry about things in the concrete, men differ from
each other, not so much in tho soundness of their
reasoning as in the principles ,vhich govern its exer-
cise, that those principles arc of a personal character,
that where there is no COIDU1on measure of Ininds, thero
i8 no coronIon measuro of arguments, and that tho
validity of proof is determined, not by any scientific
test, but by tho illative sense.
Accordingly, instead of saying that the truths of
Reyelation depend on those of Natural Religion, it is
more pertinent to say that belief in revealed truths
ùepellds on belief in natural. Belief ,is a state of mind;
l)l\lief generates belief; states of 111ind corre
polld to
each other; the habits of thought ana the rcasoning8
which lead us on to a higher state of belief than our
present, are the very sarno ,vhich "e already possess in
conllexion with the lower state. Those Jews bccan)o
Christians ill Apostolic timcs ,vho ,verc alreaJ.y ,vhat

414 Infercnce and A SSC1lt ill Religion.

may be called crypto.Christians j and those Christians
in this day remain Christian only in name, and (if it so
hrrppen) at length fall away, who aro nothing deeper
or bett0r than men of the ,vorld, 8avanf..
, literary men,
or politicians.
'1'Ì1at a special p-reparation of mind is required for
each separate depal'hnent of inquiry and discussion
(excepting, of course, that of aù
tract science) is
strongly insisted upon in well-known passages of the
:Kicomachean ethic
. Rpeaking of tho variations
'which are found in the logical perfection of proof in
various subject-matters,
\.ristotle says, "A wen-
cd ucated n1an will expect exactness in every class of

u bject, according
LS the nature of the thing admits;
fur it is much the san1e mistake to put up with a
mathpn1atician using probabilities, and to require
demonstration of an orator. Each man judges skill-
fully in those things about 'which he is ,,"ell-informed;
it is of these that he is a good judge; viz. he, in each
subject-matter, is a judge, who is ,veIl-educated in that
subject-n1atter, and he is in an absolute sense a judge,
,vho is in all of them well-educated." Again : "Young
men come to be mathematicians and the like, but they
cannot possess practical judgment; for this talent is
C111ployed upon individual facts, and these are learned
only by experience; and a youth has not experience,
for experienèc is only gained by a course of years.
And so, again, it woulù appear that a boy may be a
111athematician, but not a philosopher, or learned in
pIly-sics, and for this reason,-Lecause the one study
deals with abstractions, wlJilo tho other studies gain

RczJealed Relig ÙJ1t.

4 1 5...

their principles fronl experionce, and in the latter sub-
jects youths ùo not give assent, but mak
assertions,
Lut in tbe former they know ,vhat it is that they are
handling."
rrhcse ,yords of a hcatllen philosopher, la.ying down
broad principles ahout all knowledge, express a general
rule, "rhich in Scriptul'C is applied authoritatively to the
case of revealed knowledge in particular j-and that not
once or bvico only, hut continually, as is notorious.
Por instance :-'" I have understood," says the Psalmist,
" more tban all my teacher.s, because Thy testimonies
arc my meditation," And so our Lord: tc He that
hath ears, let hiln hear." "If any man ,vill do Iris
will, he shall know of the doctrine." And" He that
is of God, hcareth the words of God." Thus too the
l\llgels at tho Nativity announce" Peace to Ilien of
good ,vil1." And \ve read in the .L\.ct!-; of the Apostles
of "Lydia, v/hose heal't the Lord opened to attend
to those things which were said by Pau!." And
we are told on another occasion, that "as many as
were ordained," or ùisposed by God, "to life everlast-
ing, belic\"cd." And St. John tells us, "lIe that
knoweth God, heal'eth u
; he that is not of Gaù,
hcarcth us not; hy thi
we know the spirit of truth,
and the spirit of error."

1.

Relying then on these authorities, human and Divine,
I have no scruple in beginning the review I shall take
of Ch!'istianity by professing to consult for those only
whoso minds are properly prepared for it; and 1y being

4 I 6 IJlferC1lce and ./-1 ssellt Ùl Religion.

prepared, I mean to denote those who are imbued with
the religious opinions and sentinlents ,vhich I have
identified "rith
atural Religion. I do not address
myself to those, ,vho in nloral evil and physical see
nothing Inore than illlperfections of a parallel nature;
who eonsider that the difference in gravity between
the t\VO is one of degree only, not of kind ; that moral
evil is tnerely the offspring of physical, and that a
we
reillove the latter so ,ve inevitably remove the fornler ;
that there is a progress of the hnnlan race which tends
to t1le annihilation of llloral evil j that kno\vledge is
virtue, and vice is ignorance; that sin is a bugbear,
not a reality; that the Creator ùoes not punish except
in the sense of correcting; that vengeance in Him
,voultl of necessity be vindictiveness; that all that ,vo
kl1o\v of IIiln, be it much or little, is through the laws
of nature j that Inirn,cles are inlpossible; that prayer to
IIiln is a superstition; that the fear of IIim is unnlanly;
that sorro'v for sin is slavish anù abject j that the only
intelligible ,vorship of IIi III is to act ,veIl onr part in
the world, and the only sensible repentance to do
better in future; that if wo do our dutips in this life,
wo may take our chanco for the next; and that it is of
no use perplexing our minds about the future state,
far it is all a mattcr of guess. These opinions charac-
terize a civilized age j and if I say that I will not
argne about Christianity ,vith men who hold them, I
do so, not as claill1Îng any right to be ill1patient or
})eremptory ,,"ith anyone, but becanse it is plainly
absurd to attempt to prove a second propa
ition to
those who do not admit the first.

Rc'Z'caled j?eligion.

4 1 7

I assume then tha.t the above system of opInion ig
simply fa.lse, ina
lnuch as it contr.1.dict::J the prilnary
teachings of nature in the hUlnan rëLce, wherever a
religion is founa awl it:; working
can be ascertained.
I aSSUlne the pre
once of God in our conscience, and the
univer
al expèrience, as keen as our experience of bodily
pain, of what ,ve call a sense of sin or guilt. 'fhis
sense of :,in, as of something not only evil in it
elf, but
an affront to the good God, is chiefly felt as regards one
or other of three violations of His l3sw. lIe Himself
is Sanctity, Truth, and Love; and the three offences
again
t His
Iajesty are impurity, inveracity, and cruelty
.L\JIInen are not distressed at these offences alike; but
the piercing pain and sharp remor
e which one or other
inflicts upon the mind, till habituated to them, bring's
home to it the notion of what sin is, and is the vivid
type and representative of its intrinsic hatefulness.
Starting frOlll these elements, \ve Inay detern1ine with-
out difficulty the class of sentiments, intellect,ual and
moral, which constitute the tormal preparatioll for enter-
ing upon what are called the Evidences of Christianity.
'fhese evidences, then, presuppose a belief and perception
of the Divine Presence, a recognition of His attributes
aUfl an ad miration of IIi..; Per
on viewed under thenl; a
conviction of the worth of the soul and of tbe reality
and I110111entousness of the unseen world, an understand-
ing that, in proportion as we partake in our OWll persons
of tbe attributes which we admire ill Him, ,ve are dear to
RilTI; a cOll
ciou
ne:-:son thecoutrarytbat we are far from
exelllplifyillg thcIn, a consequent insight into our guilt
and Uli
ery
au eager h("\pe of reconciliation to Hilil, a
E 0

4 1 S Infercnce and Asscnt in Reltgion.

.de
il'e to kno,v and to love IIiln, and a sensitive looking-
out in all that happens, wbether in the course of nature
<>r of huulan life, for tokens, if such there be, of IIis
bestowinp- 011 us what ,ve so greatly need. rrhese are
speciu1t'Ils of the state of 111ind for ,vhich I stipulate in
thuse ,vho ,vould inquire into the truth of Chl'istianit,\' ;
.and ll1Y warJ"allt fð'l' so definite a stipulation lies in the
teaching, &,
J have dC
cl'ibeù it, uf con
cience and the
lI10ral sense, in the testil110ny of those religious rites
,vhich have ever prevailed in all parts of the "
orlù,
.and in the chara.cter and conduct of tho
e ,vho have
-commonly been selected by the popular instinct as the
.special favourites of IIea.ven.

-

I }1ave appealed to the popular ideas on the subj ect
()f religion, and to the objects of popular adn1Írat.Íon
a!ld prai
e, a
illustrating my account of the prepara-
tion of mind ,,,hich is necessary for the inquirer into
Christianity. Here an obvious objection occurs, in
noticing which I shall be advanced one st _'p farther in
the work which I have undertaken.
It may be urg .d, then, that no appeal will avail me,
which is made to relig
ong so notoriously in1moral as
those of pagani
m; nor indeed can it be ulade 'without
.an explanation. Certainly, as regards ethical teaching,
various religions, which have been popular in the world,
have not supplied any j and in the corrupt state in which
-they appear in history, they are little better than :schools
of imposture, rruelty, and in1purity. rrheir objects of
'wor
hip ,,,ere iUll11ol'al as well as false, and their founders

Rl"'z/ealed Religion.

4 1 9

and heroes have been in keeping ,vith their gods.
'his
is undeniable) but it does not destroy the use that Inay
he InaJe of their testimony. Th
re is a better side of
their teaching; purity has often been held in reverence,
if not practi
eJ; a
cetics ha.ve been in honour; hospi-
tality has been a sacred duty; and dishonesty and
injustice have been under a ban. Here then, as
before, I take our natural perception of right and
wrong as the standard for detel'lnining the charact.er-
istics of Natural Religion, and I use the religious rites
and traditions which are actually found in the world,
only so far as they agree with our moral sen
e.
This leads me to lay down the general principle, ,vhich
I have all along implied :-that no religion is from God
which contradicts our sense of right and wrong. Doubt

less; but at the same time ,ve ought to be quite sure
that, in a particular case which is before us, we have
satisfactorily ascertained what the dicates of our moral
nature are, and that we apply them rightly, and whether
the applying them or not comes into question at all.
The precepts of a religion certainly Iuay be ab
olutely
iUHuoral; ;), religion which sÍ1nply comlnanded us to lie,
or to have a comulunity ofwive
, woulJ ijJso facio forfeit
all claim to a divine origin. Jupiter and Neptune, as
represented in the classical n1ythology, are evil spirits,
and nothing can make them otherwise. And I should
in like manner repudiate a tJleology which taught that
lllen were created in orùer to be ,vicked and wretched.
I alluded just now to those who consider the doctrine
of retributive punishment, or of divine vengeance, to be
incompatible w.ith the true religion; but I do not

e
E e 2

420 Infercnce and ASSCJlt ill Religion.

ho,v they can maintain their grounJ. In orJer to do
so, they have :first to prove that an act of vengeance
Blust, as such, be a sin in our own instance; but even
this is far froln clear. Anger and indignation against
cruelty and injustice, resentment of injuries, desire that
the false, the ungrateful, and the depraved should meet
with punishn1ent, these, if not in themselves virtuous
feelings, fire at least not vicious; but, first from the cer-
taintythat, if habitual, it will run into excess and become
sin, and next because the office of punishlnent has not
been cOlnmitted to us, and further because it is a feeling
unsuitable to tbosp \vho are thenlselves so laden \vith im-
perfection 'and guilt, therefore vengeance, in itself allow-
able, is forbidden to us. These exceptions do not hold
in the case of a pérfect being, and certainly not in the
instance of the
upreme Judge.
loreover, we see that
even men on earth have different duties, according to
their personal qualifications and their positions in the
community. rrhe rule of morals is the saIne for all; and
yet, notwithstanding, \vhat is right in one is not neces-
sarily right in another. 'Vhat would be a crinle in a
priva.te man to do, is a crime in a magistrate not to
have done: still wider is the difference between Ulan
and his
Iaker. N or must it be forgotten, that, as I
have observed above, retributive justice i
the very
attribute Ullùpr which God is priInarily brought before
us in the teachings of our natural conscience.
And further, \\"e canllot deternlÎne the character of
particular actions, till we have the whole case before us
out of which thèY arise; unless, indeed. they are in
themselves distinctively vicious. 'Ve aU feel the forcð

I?evcaled Religion.

4 21

of tho Inaxiln, (, Audi alterarn partern." It is difficult
to trace the path anù to determine the scope of Divino
Providence. '\Ve read of a day \vhen the Almighty ,viII
condescend to place Ilis actions in their COll) pleteneðs
before His creatures, and" \vlll overcome when He is
judged." If, till then, we feel it to be a duty to suspend
our judgment concerning certain of Ilis actions or pre..
cepts, we do no more than what ,ye do every day in the
case of an earthly friend or enemy, whose conduct ill
Borne point requires explanation. It surely is not too
lnuch to expect of us that w'e should act with parallel
caution,and be "memores conditionis nostræ" as regards
the Hcts of our Creator. There is a poem of Parnell's
".hich strikingly brings home to us how differently the
divine appointlnents \villiook in the light of day, froIH
what they appear to be in our present twilight. An
Angel, in disguise of a nlan, steals a golden cup,
strangles an infant, and throws a guide into the stream,
and then explains to his horrified companion, that acts
\vhich would be enormities in man, are in him, as
God's minister, deeds of merciful correction or of
retribution.

Ioreover, when we are about to pass judgInent on the
dealings of Providence with other men, we shall do well
to consiùer first His dealings with ourselves. "r e can-
not know about others, about oursplves ,ve do kno\v
8omething; and ,ve know that He has ever been good
to U8, and not severe. Is it not wi
e to argue from what
we actually know to what ,ve do not know? 1 t Il1ay
turn out in the day of account, that unforgiven souls,
while charging His laws with injustice in the case of

4 22 Inference and Assent ill Relz

'ioll.

others, may he unable to find f.:'1ult ,vith His dealings
severally towards thelllSelyes.
As to t110se various religions ,yhich, together with
Christianity, teach the doctrine of eternal punishment,
here again wo ought, before wejudge, to understand, not
only tbe ,vhole state of the case, but ,vhat is Incant by
the doctrine itself. Eternity, or endlessness, is in itself
111:1inly a negative idea, though the idea of suffering is
positive. Its fearful force, as an elenlcnt of future
pUl1ishn1cnt, lies in ,,
hat it excludes; it ll1cans never
any change of state, no annihi1ation or restoration;
but 'what, consiJcred positively, it adds to suffering,
we do not kno,v. For'w hat we kno"
, the suffering
of one moment may in itself have no bearing, or but
a. partial bearing, on the suffering of the next; and
thus, as far as its intensity is concerned, it may vary
with every lost soul. 'llhis may be so, unless we assume
that t.he suffering is necessarily attended by a con-
sciousness of duration and succession, by a present ima-
gination of its past and its future, by a sustained po"Ter
of realizing its continuity.! As I have already said, the
great mystery is, not that evil has no end, but that it had
a beginning. But I submit the ,vhole subject to thp
Theological School.

3.

One of the most important effects of X atural Religion
on the n1Ïnd, in preparation for l{evealed, is the antici-

I "De bac damnatorum saltem hominum respiratione, nihil adhuc certi
decretum est ab Ecclesiâ Catholicâ :
t p:'optf'rea nou temerè, tanquam
absurùa, sit explodf'Dda sanctìssimorum Patl'um hæc opinio: quamvis à
communi 8C1lSU Catholicorum hoc tempore sit aliena."-Petayius de
Angelis, fin. ride :Kote Ill.

Rt.:,:'ca!Ctí lì.cligiull.

4 2 3

pation which it creates, that a Hevelation will be given.
'fhat earnest desire o[ it, which religious minds chcl'i::;h,
lead
the way to tho expectation uf it. Those who know
not 11 iug of the wounds of the sou], arp not led to <1ea}
with the (luestion, or to consider its circUlnstauees; but
when our attention is roused, then the Blore steadily ,ve
ùweIl upon it, the U10re probable does it seenl that a
revelation has been or will be given to us. This pre-

entÜl1ellt is funneled on our sense, on the one hand, of
the infinite goodne:::;s of God, and, on the other, of our
own extrelne misery and need-two doctrines which

rc the prin1ary constituents of Natural Religion. It is
difficult to put a lilnit to the legitilnate force of this
antecedent probability. Sorne minùs will feel it to be
HO po,verful, as to recognize in it almost a proûf, without
dÏL'ect eyidence, of the divinity of a religion claiming to
1e the true, supposing its history and ductrine are ti'ee
from positive objection, and there be no rival religion
,vith plausible clain1s of its own. Nor ought thi
trust
ill a pres111nption to seem prepostel'ous to those ,vho are
so confident, on à prim'; ground
, that the nlOOll is inha-
bited by rational beings, anù that the course of nature is
never cros
ed by miraculous agency. Any how, very
little positive evitlence seems to be necessary, when the
mind is penetrated by the strong anticipation which I
am sUt'posing-. It was this instinctive apprehension, as
,ve may conjecture, which carried on Dionysius and
Dau}aris at ....\.thens to a belief in Chri
tia_nity, though
St. Paul did no miracle there, anJ only asserted the
doctrines uf the Divine U nitJ
, the Resurrection, and the
universal judgment. while, on the other hand, it had had

4 2
Inference aJld A ssellt i1t Relig iOIl.

no tendency to attach them to any of the Inythological
rites in \vhich the place abounded.
Here Jl1Y luethod of argun1ent differs from that adopted
by Paley in his Evidences of Christianity. This clear-
headed and aln10st InatheJnatical reasoner postulates,
for his proof of its n1iracles, only thus Inuch, that, unùer
the circulnstances ð1" the ca
e, a, revelation is not impro-
hable. He says, "'V e do not aSSUlne the attributes of
t1H.:1 ])eity, or the existence of a future state." "It is
not nece

ary for our purpose that thesf' propositions
(viz. that a future existence should be destined by God
for IIis bUTnan creation, and that, being so de
tined, He
should have acquainted them with it,) be capable of
proof, or even that, by arguments dra,vn froII1 the light
()f nature, thpy can be mado out as pro Lab Ie; it is
enough that ,ve are able to say of them, that they are
:not so violently improbable, so contra.dictory to what
,yO already believe of the Divine po\ver and character,
that [they] ought to be rejected at first sight, find to Le
rejected by whatever strength or complication of evi-
.dence they Le attesteLl." He has such contidence in
the strength of the testimony ,vhich he can produce in
favour of the Christian miracles, that he only asks to
be aHowed to bring it into court.
I confess to much suspicion of legal proceedings and
Jeg-al argulnents, when used in questions ,,,bethel' of
history or of philosophy. Rules of court are dictated by
,vhat is expedient on the wbo1e and in the long run; bu
they incur the risk of being unj ust to tho clain1s of par-
ticular cases. \rhy aUl I to begin with taking up a
position Dot 111Y own, and unclothiug my mind of that
large outfit of existing t.houghts, principles, likings,

l
L"i}calcd l
ell:
ioJl.

4 "-
-J

tlesires, and hopes, which make Ine what laIn? If I
aUi nsked to use Paley's argument for my own conver-
sion, I :::;ay plainly I do not want to be converted by a
srnart syllogism;4 if I am asked to convert other8 by
it, I say plainly I do not care to overcorne their rea"on
,,'ithout touching their hearts. I wish to deal, not
with controversialists, but with inquirer
.
I think Paley's argulnellt clear, clever, and power-
ful j and there is :something which looks like charity
in going out into the highways and hedges, and COln-
pel1ing men to come in; but in this matter some expr-
tioll on the part of the persons ,vhom I am to convert
i::; a condition of a true conversion. r
hey who have
no religious earnestness are at the Inel'cy
J.ay by day,
of SOllIe new argulllent or fact, which lllay overtake
them, in favour of one conclusion or the other. .....\.ncl
ho
after all, is a man better for Christianity, 'who
bas never felt the need of it or the desire? On the
other hand, if he has longed for a revelation to en-
]ighten hill1 and to cleanse his heart, why 111ay he not
u:se, in his inquiries after it, that just and reasonablo
anticipation of it:s probability, 'which such longing has
opened the ,vay to his entertaining?
::\Ien are too wen inclined to sit at home, instead of
stirring theln
ehTeð to inquire whether a revelation has
òel'u given; they expect its evidencp::) to caine to theill
without their trouble; they act, not as suppJiants, but
as judges. 6
Iodes of argument such dS Paley'8, en-
courage this state of mind; they allo,v men to forget
tnat revelation is a boon, not a debt on the part of the

4 Tíde SUI ra, 1'. 30
.
· riJi! the author'tj Occasional Sermons. So. 5.

426 Infere1lce aUti A SSCllt ill J(cligioJl.

Gi vel'; they treat it as a mere historical pheliomenon.
If I was toll1 that saine great Ulan, a foreigner, ,,,ham I
did nut kllO\V, had come into town, and ,vas 011 his ,vay
to call ou me, alid to go over Iny house, I should senJ
to ascertain the fact, and meallwhile should do IllY best
to put nlY housp into a conò.itiou to receive hiln. lIe
..
would not be pleased if I left the Inatter to take its
chance, and \vent on the lllaxiln that seeing was believ-
Ing. Like this is the conduct of those ,vho resolve to
treat the .Almighty with dispassionateness, a judicial
tculper, clearheadedness, and canùour. It is tbe way
with some men, (surely not a good way,) to say, that
,,'ithout these lawyerlike qualifications conversion is
imlnoral. It is their "fLY, a miserable \vay, to pronounce
that there is no religious Jove of truth where tbere is
fear of error. On the contrary, I woull1 maintain that
the fear?f error is simply necessary to the genuine love
of truth. .No inquiry comes to good ". hich is not con-
ducted under a deep sense of responsibility, and of the
i
sues depending upon its deterlnination. Even the
ordinary lnatters of life are an exercise of conscien-
tiousness; and where conscience is, fear must be. So
Inuch is this ackno\vledgedjust now, that there is almost
an
l trectatioll, in popular literature, in the case of criti-
Ci
U1S Oll the :fine arts, on poetry, and music, of insist-
ing upon conscientiousness in writing, painting, or
singing; and that earnestness and sirnplicity of mind,
which lllakes men fear to go wrong in these minor
rnatters, has surely a place in the Inost serious of a.t 1
undertakiugs.
It is Oll the
e grounds that,inconsideringCht.istianitJ,

Revealed J?cligioll.

4 2 7

I start with conditions different from Paley's; not,
ho'wcyer, as ull<ler\"ttluing the force and tho
erviceab le-
nt'-':s of his al'g'uIlll!ut, hut as preferring illlluiry to
di::;putation in a question about truth.

4.

There is another point on which lilY basis of argnn1ent
<IJfers fro1l1 Paley'
. lIe argues on the principle that the
credentials, ,,'hich af'certain for usa mes
age from above,
are nec('

arily in their nature miraculous; nor have I
any thought uf venturing to say other\Yi
e. In fact, all
l)rofesseJ revelations have been attended, in one shape or
another, with the profession of miracles; and we know
how direct and unequivocal are the n1Íl'acles of both the
Jewish Covenant and of our o,vn. However, l11Y oLject
here is to n
SUlne as litt1e tl
possible as regards facts,and
to d,vell only on what is patent and notorious; and there-
fore I ,vill only insist on those coincidences and their
cun1ulations, which, though 1lot in themselves miracu-
lou
, do irresistibly force upon us, ahnost hy the hnv of
our nature, the presence of tlle extraort1inary agency of
lIiln ,vhose being we already acknowledge. 'rhough
coinciùences rise out of a combination of generalla" 5,
there is no law of those coincidences;6 they have a cha-
racter of their o,vn, and seem left ùy l)rovidence in liis
own hands, as the channel by which, inscrutaLle to us,
lIo may lnakc known to us His 'will.
For in
tancc, if I am a heliever in a God of Truth
anù
\. VélJgûr ul dishonesty, and know for certain tha[ a

· ride lJupl"a, p. 84:.

428 .Inference and Assent iu, Religion.

lnarket-,voman, after caning on HiLn to strike her dead
if she had in her possession a piece of nloney not her""
did fall do,vn dead on the spot, and that the lnoney 'V[LS
found in lieI' hand, how can I call this a blind coinci-
dence, and not discern in it an act of Providence Over
and above its geueralla,vs? So, certainly, thought the
inhabitants of an English town, when they erected a
pillar as a record of such an event at the place 'where
it occurred. Anù if a Pope excolnmunicates a great
conqueror; and he, on hearing tho threat, says to one of
his friends, "Does he think the world has gone back a
thousand years? does he suppose the fi1'tl1S will fall frolll
the hands of my soldiers? " and 'within t,vo years, on the
retreat over the snows of Russia, as two contelnporary
historians relate, {{ fanline and cold tore their arms from
the grasp of the soldiers," "they fell from the hands of
the bravest and most robust," and "destitute of the
power of raising them from the ground, the soldiers left
them in the snow;" is not this too, though no miracle,
a coincidence so special, as rightly to be called a Divine
judgment? So thinks Alison, who avo'Ys ,vith religious
honesty, that" there is something in these marvellous
coincidences beyond the operation of chance, and ,vhich
even a Protestant historia.n feels himself bound to mark
for the observation of future years." ': And so, too, of a
cumulation of coincidences, separately less striking;
when Spelman sets about
stablishing t.he fact of the ill.
fortune which in many instances has followed upon acts
of sacrilege among us, then, even though in many in-
stances it has not followed, and in many instances he

7 Histor.v. vol. viii.

l
t'l/ca lid Religioll.

4 2 9

exaggerates, still thpre Juay be a large residuulll of casec;
which cannot be properly resolved into ihe mere
accident of concurrent causes, but 11lUst in rea "on be
considered the ,varning voice (f God. So, at least,
thought Gib
on, Bishop of London, when he wroce.
"
[any of the instances, and those too well-attested,
are so terrible in the event, and in the circumstances
so surprising, t.hat no considering person can well pass
t heltl oveI'."
I think, then, that the circumstances under which
:t profe:::;sed revelation COines to ns, may be such as to
Ïtnpress both our reason and our imagination with a
sense of its truth, even though no appeal be n1adp to
strictly miraculous intervention-in Eaying ,,,hieh I do
not nH:
an of course to imply that those circunIstance
,
when traced back to their first origins, are not the
outcome of such intervention, but that the miraculous
in tervention addresses us at this day in the guise of
those circumstances; that is, of coincidences, ,vhich are
indications, to the illative sense of those who believe in
a
roralGovel'nor,of ilis imn](
diate Presenee,e
pecially
to those who i.n addition hold with me the strong
antecedent probability that, in IIi:; mercy, Hp will thus
supernaturally present Himself to our apprehension.

5.

o,v as to the fact.; IJa:3 what is 80 probable in
anticipation actually been granted to us, or ha.ve we
still to look out for it? It is very plain, supposing it
ha
been grantet1, \vhich amüng all the religions of the
world comes frolll God: anù if it is not that, a. revela-

430 Illference alui A SSCJlt Ùl It.cligl.uJl.

tion is not yet given, and we lllust look forward to the
future. There is only one Religion in the world ,vhich
tends to fulfil the aspirations, needs, and foreshadowings
of natural faith and devotion. It n1:lY be said, perhaps,
that, educated in Christianity, I merely judge of it by
its o,vn principles; but this is not the fact. For, ill
the :first place, I ha e taken my idea of what a revelation
Blust be, in gooù measure, from the actual religions of
the world; and as to its ethics, the ideas ,\?ith \vhich 1
COlne to it are derived not si'nply fl'Olll the Gospel, but
prior to it fronl heathen moralists, \vhom Fathers of the
Church and Ecclesiastical ,vriters have in1Ìtatecl or

auctioned; and as to the intellectual position from
w'hich I have cOlltelnplated the subject, Aristotle has
been lIlY Inaster. Beside::;, I do not here single out
Ch ristianity '\\ ith reference
imply to its particular
dortrines or prec.epts, but for a rea
on which is on the
surface of its history. It alone has a definite message
addressed to all man kind. As far as I kno,v, the
rcliO'ion of
Iahomet has brought into the ,vorld no new
o .
doctrine v.hatever, except, indeed, that of its own divine
origin; and the character of its teaching is too exact a
reflection of the race, time, place, and clinlate in which
it arose, to adn1Ït of its becolnillg universal. The same
dependence on external circUlllstances is characteristic,
so far as I know', of the religions of the far East; nor
am I sure of any definite nlessage frolll God to nlan
which they convey and protect, though they nULY have
sacred books. Christianity, on the other hand, is in its
idea an announcement, a preaching; it is the deposi-
tory of truths beyond human discovery, lllomentous,

"
Ci.'caJcd RcliE[iou.

-+3 1

practical, nlaintained one and the same in substance in
every age from its fir
t, and addresseù to allinankind.
And it has actu
ny been ernùraced and is found in all
parts of the ,vorld, in all climates, among all races, in
all ranks of society, under every degree of civilization,
from barbarism to the highest cultivation of Inind.
Coming to set right and to govern the world, it has
ever been, as it ought to be, in conflict with large
rnasses of men, with the civil power, \vith physical
force, with aùverse philosophies; it has haiJ succe::,S8S,
it has had rever:ses; but it ha'3 ha.d a grand history,
and has effected great things, and is as vigorous in its
age as in its youth. In all these respects it has a dis-
tinction in the ,vorld and a pre-eminence of its own; it
has upon it primcl far.ie signs of divinity j I do not
know what can be advanced by rival religions to match
prerogatives so special; so that I feel my
elf justified
in saying either Christianity is fronl God, or a revela-
tion has not yet been given to us.
It win not surely be objected, as a point in favour
of some of the Oriental religions, that they are older
than Christianity by SaIne centuries; yet, should it be
so saiù, it lnust be recollected that Christianity is only
the continuation and conclusion of ,vhat professes to
be an earlier revelation, ,vhich may be traced back
into prehistoric titHeS, till it is lost in the da rkness
that ha.ngs over theu1. As far as we know, there never
wa
ë1 tilne \, hen that revelation wa
not,-a revelation
continuous and systematic, with distinct representa-
tives and an orderly succession. And this, I suppose, is
far more than can be sa.id for the religions of the East.

4 """
,,-

Infercllce allä A sseJlt Zit Religzon.

6.

Herp, tllC'n, I aID bronght to the consideration of the
Hebrew nation and tho
Iosaic religion, as the first step
in the direct eviùence for Christianity.
Thp Jews are one of the few Oriental nations who are
known in history as a people of progress, and their
line of progress is the development of religious trath.
In that their own line they stand by thelLlselves among
all the populations, not only of the East, but of the
\ Vest. Their country may be called the classical hOlue
of the religious principle, as Greece is the home of
intellectual power, and l{ome that of political and prac-
tical wisdom. Theism is their life; it is emphatically
their natural religion, for they never \vere 'vithout it,
and wpre made a people by means of it. rrhis is a
phenomenon singular and solitary in Iii story, ana
us

have a n1eaning. If there be a God a
d Providence,
it Illust COlne froln TIiln, ,,,hether illlluediately or indi-
rectly; and thc people thell1selves have ever Inaintained
that it has been His direct work, and has been recog-
nized by Hilll as such. "r e are apt to treat pretences
to a divine ll1is:-\ion or to supernatural powers as of
frequent occurrencp, anti on that score to dismiss them
froln our thoughts; but we cannot so deal with J udaisn1.
'\
hen mankind had univcrsally denied the first lesson
of their conscience by lapsing into polytheism, is iti
a. thing of slight ll10ment tha.t there ,vas just one excep-
tion to the rule, that there was just one people who, fir
t
by their rulers and priests, and after,vards by their owu
unaniInous zeal, professeù, as their distingaishing doc.

Revealed Rel

io'Jt.

433

trine, the Divine Unity and Government of the world,
and that, moreover, not only as a natural truth, but as
revealed to them by that God llimself of whom they
f'poke,-w ho so embodied it in their national polity, that
a. Theocracy 'was the only name by which it could be
called? It was a people founded and set up in Theisrn,
kept together by Theism, and maintaining Theism for a
period from first to last of 2000 years, till the dissolution
of their boc1y politic; and they have maintained it sinco
in their state of exile and wanùering for 2000 years
more. rrhey begin with the beginning of history, and
the preaching of this august dogn1a begins with them.

rhoy are its witnesses and confessors, even to torturo
and dcath; on it and its revelation are moulded their.
laws and government; on this their politics, philosophy,
and literature are founded; of this truth their poetry is
the voice, pouring itself out in devotional compositions
which Christianity, through all its many countries and
age
, has been unable to rival; on this a.boriginal truth:
as time goes on, prophet after prophet bases his further
revelations, with a sustained reference to a time ,vhel1.!
uccorc1ing to tho secret counsels of its Divine Object and
Author, it is to receive completion and perfection,-till
at length that time comes.
The last ago of their history is as strange as their
first. 'Yhen that tin1e of destined blessing call1C,
which they had so accurately lllarked out, and "
ere so
carefully 'waiting for-a time which found the111, in
fact, more zealous for their Law, and for the dogn1a it
enshrined, than they ever had been before-then,
instead of any final favour coming on them from above,
11 f

43-1- Inference a1ld Assent ill Religion.

they fell under the power of their enemios, and wero
overthrown, their holy city razed to the ground, their
polity d.estroyed, and the relDnfint of their people
cast off to ,vanùer far and away through every lanù
except their own, as 'WO find them at this day; lasting
on, century after century, not absorbed in other
populations, not annihilat8ù, as likely to last on, as
unlikely to be re
tored, as far as outward appeal'allccs
go, no,v as a thousand )"cars ago. "\VLat nation has
so grand, so rOluantic, so terrible a history? Dùes it
not fulfil the iùea of, \v ha.t the natioll calls it
clf, u.
chosen people, chosen for gooù and. evil? Is it not an
exhibition in a course of history of that priulfi.ry de-
claration of conf:cience, as I have heen deterluining it,
""ïth the upright Thou shalt be upright, and .with
the froward Thou sbalt be froward"? It must have
a meaning. if there is a Goll. '.Ve know ,vhat 'VBS
their witncss of old ti1He; what is their ,vitness no\v ?
"\Vby, I say, was it that, after so 111emorablo a career,
when their sins and sufferings ,vere now' to come to an
cud, ,vhen they ,vpre looking out for a ùeliverance aud
a Dcli\.cre:r, suùdelllyall ,vas re\yersed for once anù for.
all? They ,,"cre the favoured servants of God, aHd
)"ct a, peculiar reproach and note of infanlY is affixed
to tbeir n
llnc. It was their 1elief that Ilis protectiun
was unchangeable, and that their La,v 'would last for
ever ;-it 'YUS their consolation to be taught by an un-
interrupted tradition, that it could not die, except by
changing into n. ne,v self, more wonderful than it ,vas
1efore ;-it ,vas their faithful expectation tbat a
pron1Îsed King ,vas coming
the
Ie
siah, ,vho woul

Revea!c{l Religioll.

4 "'t

..)J

extond the sway of Israel over all people ;-it ,vas a,
cU!lJition of their covenant, that, ::l:i a re\va,rJ to
J.\ Lraharn, their first father, the clay at length should
dawn when the gates of their narrow lana shonla opeu,
and they sbould pour out for the conquest and occupa-
tion of the 'whole earth ;-and, I repeat, w11en the day
canl0, they did go forth, and they did spread into aU
lands, but as hopeless exiles, as eternal wanderers.
Arc we to say that this failure is a proof that, after all,
there wa
nothing providential in their history? For
myself, I do not see how a seconù portent obliteratcs a
first j and, in trutb, thcir own testimony and their own
sacred books carry us on towarùs a better solution of the
difficulty. I have said they were in God's favonr nnder
a co\yenant,-perhaps they did not fulfil the condition-:;
of it. This indeed seeIUS to be their own account of
the Il1atter, though it i
not dear what their breach ùf
engagelllellt. was. \nd that in ROInc way they llid sin,
whatever their sin was, is corroborated by the "rell_
known chapter in tho Rook of DeuterononlY, which so
strikingly anticipates tho nature of their punishmt'llt.
'rhat pnssage, translated into Greek as Hlany a
3:)0
years beforo the siege of Jerusalem by Titus, has on it
the luarks of a wonderful prophecy; but I al11 not llùW
referring to it as such, but merely as '1n indication that
the disappointment, which actually overtook them at the
Christian era, was not necessarily out of keeping with
the original divine purpose, or again with the old pro-
u1ise luade to theIn, and their confiaent e
:pectation of
its fulfihnent. Their national ruin, ,vl1ich ('RIne instead
oÎ aggrant1izell1Cnt, ics de,;cribcc1 in tlwt h00k, in spiro
F f

436 Inftrt1ZCe and Asse1lt 'i1l Religion.

of a11 promises, 'with an emphasis find Juinutencss which
provo that it was conte.rnplated long before, at least as
a po
siblo issue of the fortunes of Israel. Among other
inflictions which should befall the guilty p.eople, it ,vas
told them that they should fall do,vn before their cne.
lnies, find should be scattered throughout all the king-
doms of the earth; that they never should have quiet
in those nations, or have rest for the sole of their foot;
tLat they ,yore to have a fearful heart anù languishing
('yes, and a soul consumed with heavin
ss; that they
,vera to suffer ,vrong, and to be crushed at all tilDes,
and to be astonished at the terror of tl1eir Jot; that their
80ns and daughters ,yero to be given to another people,
aud they ,yere to look and to sicken all the day, anll
their lifo 'was ever to hang in doubt before them, and
fear to haunt tl1cm day anù night; that they should
oe a proyerb anù a by.word of all people nmong ,vhom
they were brought; and that curses were to come on
thcIn, and to be signs and wonders on them and their
seed for e,er. Such are some portions, and not the
lno
t terrible, of this extended anathenla; and its par...
t Ù!l acconlplishment at an earlier date of their history
,vas a ,varnillg to theIn, ,vhen t118 destined tin18 dre\v
near, that, howevf\r great the promises made to them
Inight be, those promises ,vere dependent on the terms
of tho covenant which stood between them and theil'

Iaker, nnd that, as they had turned to curses at that
former time, so they might turn to curses again.
This grand drama, so impressed with the characters
of supernatural agency, concerns us here only in its
l)caring upon the evidence for the divine origin of,

Revealeti R eligz"o1Z.

437

Christianity; and it is at this point that Christianity
COD1CS upon the historical scene. It is a notorious fact
that it issued from the Jewish land J_nd pcoplu; ana
haù It no other than this historical connexion ,vi th
J uùaism, it would have some share in the prestige of
its original Lome. But it claims to be far more than
t
this; it professes to be the actual completion of tho
)[osaic Law, the pron1Ísetl means of deliver.:Lllco and
triumph to tho nation, which that nation itself, as I
havo said, has since considered to be, on account of
so:ne sin or other, ,vithheld or forfeited. It professes
to be, not tbe casual, but the legitimate offspring, heir,
and succeSSOl" of tbe Mosaic covenant, or rather to bo
Judaism itself, developed and transformed. Of course
it has to prove its claim, as ,ven as to prefer it; but if
it succeeds in doing so, then all those tokens of tho
Divine Presence, which distinguish the Jewish history,
at once belong to it, anù are a portion of its credt:n-
tials.
And at least the pri1nâ facie vie,v of its relations
towards J Uaai
n1 is in favour of these pretension.s. It
is an historical fact, that, at the ,.ery time that the Jews
committed their unpardonable sin, ,vhatever it was, and
wcre driven out from theil- hon1e to wander over tho
earth, their Christian brethren, born of the same stock,
and equally citizens of Jerusalem, 'did also issue forth
from the same home, but in orùer to subù'J.e that same
earth anL. make it their own; that is, they undertook
t he very work ,vhich, according to the promise, their
nation actually 'ya
ordained to execute; and, with a
method of their own indeed, and ,vith a nc,v end, and

438 IllfCJ C1lce and Asscnt ill i?eligioll.
only slo\vly and painfully, but still really and tho-
roughly, they did it. .And since that time the two
chihlrcn of the prolnise have ever been found together
-of t hp proulise forfeited and tbe prolllise fulfiUed; and
".hL\rPfis the Christian has Leen in high place, so tho
,1 f'W ha
been degraded and despised-the ODe has
heen (( the heall," lld the other "the tail ;" so tIlat, to
go no farther, the fact that Christianity actually has
ùOlle ,vllat J uùaisrn was to have done, decides the con-
tro\Tersy, by the logic of facts, in favour of Christianity.
'rhe prophecies announced that the :JIessiah was to
COllie at a definite tinle and place; Christians point to
] I inl as conling then and there, a<; announced j they
arð not 111et by any counter clainl or rival claimant on
the pa.rt of the J e"rs, only by their assertion that lie
did not CODle at all, though up to tho event they bad
said lIe \vas then and there con1Ïng. Further, Christi-
anity clears up the nlystery which hangs over Judaism,
accounting fully for the punishment of the })cople, by

pccifying their sin, their heinous sin. If, instead of
11ailiÙg their own ]'lessiah, they crucified Hirn, then
the strange scourge 'v hich has pursued them aft.er the
deed, and the energetic ,vording of the curse before it,
are eXplained by the very strangeness of their guilt j-
or rather, their sin is their punishment; for in reject..
ing their Divine l
ing, they ipso facto lost the living
principle and tie of their nationality.
foreover, we
see \vhat led them into error; they thought a triulnph
and an empire 'vere to be given to them at once, ,vhich
,,'cre gixell inùcec.l eventually, but by the s]ow and
gradual growth ()f Inany centuries and a long ,varfare.

Revealed Religion.

439

On the whole, then, I observe, 011 the one hand, that,
Judaism having been the channel of religious traditions
which arc lost in the depth of their antiquity, of course
it is a great point for Christianity to succeeù in proving
that it is the legitimate heir to that former religion.
1\ or is it, on the other, of le
s Ïrnpol'tance to the sig-
nificance of those early tl'aùitiolls to be able to deter-
1uine that they were not lost together with their
original store-house, but were transferred, on the
failure of Judaism, to the custody of the Christian
Church. __\.nd this apparent correspondence between
the two is in itself a presumption for such correspon-
ùence being real. Next, I observe, that if the history
of Judaism is so ,vonderful as to suggest the presence
of sonle special divine agency in its appoilltInents and
f()rtunc
, still mor0 wonderful and divine is the Iti
tory
of Christianity; and again it i::i more wonderful still,
that two
uch wonderful creations should span almost
the whole course of ages, during which nations and
states }1ave been in existence, and should constitute a
professed system of continued intercourse between
earth and hpaven froIn first to last aInid all the vicissi-
tudes of human affairs. This phenomenon again
carries on its face, to thoso ,vIto Lclieve in a GoJ, the
prolJnJbility that it has that divine origin which it pro-
fesses to have; and, (when viewea In the light of the
strong presuInption which I have insisted on, that in
Goù's mercy a revelation froin Him will be granted to
us, anù of the contrast presented by other religions,
no one of which professes to be a revelation direct,
definite, anù integral as this is,)-this phenoJncnon, I

440 Inference and Asse1zt ,in Religion.

say, of cUlllulative marvels raises that proba1ilit.y, both
for J uJaiSll1 and Christianity, in religious minds, almost
to a certainty.

7.

If Christianity is connected \vith Juùaism as closely
..
as I have lJeen supposing, then there have beeu, by
11lcans of the t,vo, direct cOlnmunicatiolls bebvecn man
aud his
laker from time immemorial down to this
Jay-a great prerogative snch, that it is nowhere else
even claimeJ.
0 other religion but these t,vo pro-
fesses to be the organ of a formal revelation, certainly
not of a revelation \vhich is directed to the benefit of
the 'v hole human race. nere it is that ßlahometanism
fails, though it claims to carryon the line of reve1ation
after Chri
tianity; for it is the mere creed and rite of
certain races, bringing ,vith it, as such, no gifts to our
nature, and is rather a reformation of local corruptions,
and a return to the ceremonial \vorship of earlier ti mes,
than a ne\v and larger revelation. And while Chris..
tianity 'vas the heir to a dead religion, :ßfahomctallisln
,vas little more than a rebellion against a living one.
},[oreover, tbough Mahomet professed to be the Para-
elate, no one pretends that he occupies a place in tho
Chri
tian Scriptures as prominent as that which tho

[cssiah fins in the Jewish. To this especial proIni..
nence of the
J essianic idea I shall no,v advert; that
is, to the prophecies of the Old Scriptures, and to the
nrguInent which they furnish in favour of Christianity j
and though I kno,v that argulncnt Inight 1e clearer
and mOl'C exact than it is, and I do not pretond hore to

Rcvealed j(c/igioll.

44 1

do much more than refer to tho fae t of its existence,
still so fa.r forth as we enter into it, will it strcngthpll
our conviction of the claitl1 to divinity Loth of the
Hl'ligion which is the organ of those prophecies, and uf
the Heligion which is their object.
Xow that the Je\vish Scriptures were in existence
long before the Christian era, and were in the sole
custody of the Jews, is undeniable; 'whatevcr then
their Scriptures distinctly say of Christianity, if not
attributable to chance or to happy conjecture, is pro-
phctic. It is undeniable too, that the Jews gathered
frotH those books, that a great Personage was to bo born
of thcir stock, und to conquer the whole world and to
becolnc the instrument of extraordinary blessings to it;
Illoreover, that he would make his appearance at a fixed
date, and that, the very date when, as it turned ont,
our Lord did actually come.
rhis is the great outline
of the prediction, and it nothing more could be said
aLout them than this, to prove as much as this is far
frolu unimportant. .And it is undeniable, I Eay, hoth
t hat the;J ewish Scriptures cont
in thus much, and that
tho J cw
actually understood them as containing it.
First, then, as to what Scripture declares. From tho
book of Gcnesis we learn Ìllat the chosen people ,vas set
up in this one idea, viz, to be a blessing to tho whole
earth, anù that, by n1eans of one of their own race, a
greater than their father _
braham. This w-as the n1ean-
iug and drift of their being chosen. 'l'here IS no room
for Inistake here; the ùivinc purpose is stated from tho
first ,vith the l1tn103t preci
ion. t\.t the very time of
.Abraham's call, he i5 told of it :_!C I will m

"

of thee

44 2 Inference and A ssellt l1l Religion.

a great nation, and in theo shall all tribes of the earth bo
blessed." Thrice is this promise and purpose announced
in .L.\ braham's history; and after Abrahaln's time it i:i
rl'peated to IS1.ac, " In thy seeù shall all tho nations of
the earth be Lle
sl'ù;" anù after Isaac to Jacob, when a
'''anùerel' fl'oln hi::; home, " In thee and in thy seed shall
all the tribes of the earth be b]essed." .And froln Jacob
the proluise passcs on to his son J uùa.h, and that váth
an ac1tlition, viz. ,,,ith a reference to the great Person
who ,vas to Le the world-wiùe blessing, and to tho date

y hen lIe should como. J uùah was the chosen son of
Jacob, and his staff or scoptre, that is, his patriarchal
authority, was to endure till a greater than Judah came,
f:O that the loss of the sceptre, ".hen it took place, was
the sigll of IJis near approach. Cf The sceptre," says
J
lcob on his death-bed, "Rhall not IJe takpn away froll1
Judah, until lIe CaIne for ",horn it is re
ervcù," or "who
is to be sent," "and lie shall be the expectation of tho
nations." 8

8 Before nud apart from Christianit)', the Samaritan Version rei\ds,
" donce \'eniat Paeifieus, et ad ipsum C'ongrcgabuntur populi.'" The Tar-
gum, "donee ycniat
ll'ssias, cnjus est l"l'J;num, et obedient populi." The
Septuagint, " donee \'clliunt quro l"eseI'Vat:l sunt iJIi" (or " donee veniat
cui rC:5ervatuIU cst "), " et ipse e'\:peetatio gentium." And so ag:\in tbe
ç u!gate, U donee ven iat qui mith.nùusest, et ipse erit expeetatio gentium."
The ingenious translation of some learned men (" donee venerit .Tuda
Siluntell1 /' i. e. "the tribc-sceptre shall not depart from J uùah till
Judah comes to Shiloh "), with the explanation that the tribe of Judah
had the h'ader
hip in the war against the Canaanites, vide J 111lges i. ],
2; xx.]t) (i. e. after Joshua's death), :md that po
sibly, and fur what
we know, the tribe gave up that war-command at Shiloh, vide Joshua
x\'iii. 1 (i. e. in Joshua's life-time), labonr
under three grave difficulties:
1. That the patriarchal sceptrc is a tcmporary war-command. 2. That
this command belongcd to J udall at the very time that it belonged to
Joshua. And 3. That it was finally lost to Judah (JoöÌlU:l living), hefure
it had becn committed to Judah (Joshua dead).

Rez'ealed Religion.

443

Such was tho categorical prophecy, literal and Ull-
equivocal in its ,vording, direct :tnd sinlple in its scope.
Ouo Illan, born of the chosen tribe, Wa
the destined
Inillister of blessing to the wholo worlJ; and the racc,
n
represented by that tribe, wa,s to loso its old self in
gaining a l1ew self in IIin1. Its destiny ,vas sealed
upon it in its beg-inning. An expectation ,vas the
nleasure of its life. It ""as created for a great end,
and in that end it had its ending. Such were the
initial communications Inade to the chosen people, and
there they stopped ;-as if the outline of promise, so
sbarply cut, had to be effectually imprinted on their
rninds, before n10re kno,vledge was given to then1; as
if, by the long interyal of years which passed before
the more varied prophecies in type and figure, after
the manner of the East, were added, the original notices
might stand out in the sight of all in their severe
explicitness, as archetypal truths, and guides in inter-
preting whatever cbe was obscure in its wording or
complex in it
direction.
And in tho second placo it i
quite clear that the
Jews did thus understand their prophecies, anù did
expect their great l{uler, in the very age in ,vhich our
Lord came, and in which they, on the other hand, w'ere
destroyed, losiug their old self without gaining their
new. ileathen hi
torians shall speak for the fact.
" ..1, persuasion had posses
ion of most of theIn," says
rracitus, sppaking of their resi
tance to the Iton1ans,
Ie that it "'as contained in the ancienti books of the
priests, that at that very tÍ1ue the East should prevail,
and that men" ho is
uell from J udea should obtain the

444 IJlfe1 cuce and A sseJlt ill, Religiolt.

clnpire. The common pcople, as is the way with
human cupidity, having once interpreted in their own
favour this grand destiny, were not evcn by their
reverses brought round to the truth of facts." And
Suetonius extends the belief :-" The ,,,hole East WaS
rife with an old an(l persistent belief, that at that tilDO
persons who issued from J udea, should possess the
clllpire." After tho event of course the Jews dre\v
back, rrnd denied the correctness of thcir expectation,
still they could not deny that the expectation had
existed. Thus the Jew Josephus, ".bo was of the
Roman party, says that what encouraged them in the
stand they luade against tho Romans ,vas ,e an anlbi-
gnous oracle, found in their sacred writings, that at
that date somo one of them from that country should
rule the world." Ho can but pronounce that the
oracle was ambiguous; he cannot state that they
thought it so.
N O'V, considering that at that very tin1e our Lord
did appear as a teacher, and founded not merely a
religion, but (what was tben quite a new idea in the
worlù) a system of religious warfare, an aggressive and
militant body, a don1ÍnaJ1t Catholic Church, which aimed
at the benefit of aU nations by the spiritual conquest
of all; and that this ,varfare, then begun by it, has
gone on without cessation down to this day, and no,v
is as living and real as ever it was; that that militant
body has from the first fined the world, that it has had
".onderful successes, that its successes have on the

.llole been of extreme benefit to the human race, that
it has imparted an intelligent notion about the Supreme

R evcalcli Rel'igioll.

445

God to minions who would have lived and died in
irreligion, that it has rai
ed the tono of morality
wherever it has come, has abolished great social
allonmJies and Hliscries, has elevated the female se'\:
to its proper dignity, has protected the poorer classes,
lias destroyed slavery, encouraged literature and
philosophy, and bad a principal part in that civilization
of human kind, which, ,vith some evils, has still on
the whole been productive of far greater good,-col1-
sidering, I say, that all this begau at the ùestil1eù,
expected, recognized season ,vl1en the old prophecy
EaiJ that in one
ran, born of the tribe of J udall, aU
the tribes of the earth were to be blesseù,-I feel I
ha.ve a right to say (and Iny line of argull1cnt docs Dot
lead 1ne to say n10re), that it is at the very least a
relnarkable coincidence; that is, one of those coinci-
dences which, when they are accumulated, come close
upon tho idea of 11liracle, as being impossible without
the IIanù of God directly and immediately in theine
'Vhen wo havo got as far as this) we 1nay go on a
great deal farther. Announcements, which could not
be put forward in tho front of the argument, as being
figurative, vagne, or amùiguous, may be used vaJiùIy
and with great effect, when they have been interpreted
for us, fir
t by the prophetic outline, and still more hy
the historical object. It is a principle 'which applies
to aU n1atters on which we reason, that wbat is only a
DU1ZO of facts, 'Without order 01' drift prior to the due
explanation, may, 'When we once have that explanation,
be located and adjusted ,,
ith great facility in all its
separate parts, as we know is thp case 3S regaròs the

446 IJljêreJlce and A SSCJlt 1:1l Religion.

nlotions of the heavenly bodies since tbe }lypothesis of
Newton. In like 1nanner the event is the true key to
prophecy, and reconciles conflicting and .divergent de-

criptions by clubodying tbe1n in ono con1nlon repre-
sentativ0. Thus it is that we learn ho\y, as the prophe-
cies
aid, tbe 1\l('
siah could both
uff('r,yet be victol'iou
;
IIis kingdo,u bp
Tndaic in
trncture, yet evangelic in
spirit; ana I[is people thp children of \hrahaln, yet
" sinners of tho G ('utiles." These seenling paracloxe
,
are only parallel and akin to those others ,vhich forin
so pronlinent a fl'
tur(1 in the teaching of our I-.Jord anù
11 is Apostles.
As to the J ('ws, since they lived before the event, it
is not \yonderful, that, though they were right in their
general interpretation of Hcriptnre a
far as it ,vent,
they stoppe<l Rllort of th<.' " holt, truth; nay, that evpu
when their
r e

ia h camp, th('y coull! nut reçognizo lEnt
as t he prol}}i
ed l
ing a
we l'l'cognizü 11 irn now;-for
,ve have tho experienco of 1 fis hiRtory for nearly two
th()u
ana years, hy which to interprpt their Scriptures.
"... e 111ay partly undprstanù their position to,varùs those
l)l'ophecics, byourownat present towards the.l\pocalypse.
'Vho can deny the superhnmangranJeurancl impressi,"e-
ness of that sacred book! yet, as a prophecy, though
SOUle outlines of the future are discernible, howdifEerent1y
it affects us from the predictions of Isaiah! either
because it relates to undreamed-of ev-ents still to come,
or because it has been fulfilled long ago in events which
in their detail and circU111stance have never becon18
history. And the same renlark applies doubtless to
portions of the }'Iessiallic prophecies stiIl; but, if thci

Rez1ealed Religion.

447

fulfillncnt lIas hecn thus graùl1al in titHe pa
t, we lHust
not be
urpri
l'd though portions of theln still await
their slow but true accolnplishu1eut in the futuro.

8.

,rhen I inlplied that in somo points of view Chris-
tianity has not answered the cÀpectations of the old
prophccies, of ,vhich it claiuls to be the fulfilment} I
had in 111illd principally the contrast ,vhieh is presented
to u
bcbvecu the picturo ,vhich they draw of tho
uuivcrsality of the kingc10nl of the l\Iessiah, and that
p
rtial devclopnlont of it through the world, which is
all tho Christian Church can show; and again the
contrast bcbveen the rest and peace which they said
lIe was to introduce, and the Church's actual history,
-the conflicts of opinion ,,,hicIt have raged within itq
pale, the violcnt acts and unworthy lives of 111fillY of
its rulers, anù th0 nloral degradation of great nltLSSeS
of its people. I do not profess to Dleet the
o difficulties
here, except by saying that the failure of Cll ristianity
in ono respect in corresponding to those prophecies
cannot destroy the force of its corresponùence to thcln
in others; just as ,YO Illay alJow that the portrait of a
friend is a faulty likeness to him, and yet be quite
sure that it is his portrait. 'Vhat I
han actually
attcll1pt to sho,v here is this,- thaù Christianity \\yas
quite aware from the first of its own prospective
future} so unlike the expectations which the prùphets
,vonla excite conccrning it, and that it meets the
difficulty thence arising by anticipation, by giving llS
it'S 0" 11 predictions of what 0." was to be in his torical

44-8 Inference a1ld Asse1lt ill Religion.

fact, predictions which are at once explanatory com.
Jllellts upon the Jewish Seriptures, and direct L'yi-
denees of its own prescience.
I think it obscr\yable thcn, that, though our IJol'ù
claims to be th
)Iessiah, I[e shows so little of COll-
scious dependence
n the old Scriptures, or of anxiety
to fulfil thenl; as if it bec
nlle llin1, ,,,,ho 'vas the Lonl
of the rrophet
, to take lli
own course, and to leave
their uttC'ranccs to adjust thcnlselves to IIim as they
could, and not to be careful to accommoùate IIimself
to theln. 'fhe evangeli:..:ts <10 iutleed
ho\v sonle snch
na,tura17.eal in IIi:-; behalf, and thereby illustrate ,,,hat
I notice in IIiln Ly the contl"a
t. ThC'y betray an
c--arnestncss to trace in ITis rerson and hi::;tory tho
accoluplislnnent of propllccy, as ,vhen they discern it
in IIis return froln Egypt, in IIis life at Nazareth,
in the gentleness and tenderness of His moùe of
teac11ing, anù in tho various nlinuto occurrences of
IIis passion; but 110 Hill1self goes straight Îor,varc1 on
Iris ,yay, of course claiming to be the
ressiah of tho
Prophets,u still not so much recurring to past pro-
phecies, as uttering no,v ones, 'with an antithesis not
uu1ikc that '\vhich is so illlpressive in the SerlTIOn on
tho
Iount, when TIe fìr
t says, "It has been said Ly
then1 of old time," anù then adds, "But I say uuto
you." Another striking instance of this is seen in
the Kames under 'w'hich He spoke of IIimself, 'which

· He appeals to the propl1ecies in C\'iùence of Hi
Divine mission, in
nùtlressing the l)eople of Nazareth (Luke iv. 18), St. John's disciples
C\fatt.
i. 5), and the Pharisees platt. x:\.i. 42, nnd John v. 39), but
Dot in details. The appeal to details He rcser\yes for His disciples. rid{J
Matt. xi. 10; xxvi. 2i. 31. 51: Luke xxii. 37; xxÏ\Y. 27, .lb.

Rt'vcaled ReliglOll.

449

h:tve little or no foundation in anything 'which was
sD.id of IIiln heforehand in the Jewish Scriptures.
They
peak of Him as Ruler, Prophet, I(ing, I[ope
of Israel, Offspring of J udab, and :Jfessiah; and IIis
Evangelists and Disciples call Him 1tlaster, Lord,
Prophet, Son of Da,'id, King of Israel, l{ing of the
J e'vs, and
les
iah or Chl'i
t; but He IIinlself, though,
I repeat, He ackno,vledges these titles as llis ow'n,
pspecially that of the Christ, chooses as His special
designations these two, Son of God and Sun of
lan,
the latter of wbich is only once given Him in the
Old Scriptures, and by ,vhich He corrects any narrow
Judaic interpretation of them; while the fornler ,vas
never distinctly used of Him before He callIe, and
seems first to have been announced to the world by
the Angel Gabriel and St. John the Baptist. In tbo

t,vo Xame
, Son of God and Son of :ßIan, decIaratoJ'y
of the two natures of Emmanuel, He separates Him-
self from the Jewish Dispensation, in which .fIe ,,-as
burn, and inaugurates the
e'v Covenant.
This is not an accident., and I shall llO\V give some
instauces of it, that is, of what I may call the indepen-
dent autocratic view which He takes of His own reli-
gion, into which the old Judaism was melting, and of
tbe prophetic insight into its spirit and its future which
that view involves. In quoting His own sayings froln
the :Evangelists for this purpose, I assume (of which
there is no reasonable doubt) that they wrote before
any historical evpnts had happened of a nature to
cause theln unconsciously to n)odify or to colour the
.,,:nguage which their
laster used.

o g

450 Inference and .d SSCllt ill Religjoll.

1. }'irst, then, the fact ha
been often insisted on as a.
bold conception, unheard of before, anù worthy of divine
()rigin, that ITe should even project a universal reli-
gion, and that to be effected by what l11ay be called a
propagandist n10vement from one centre. Hitherto it
had been the received notion in the world, tbat each
nation had its own gods. The H,onlans IEgi
lated upon
that basis, and the Jews had held it from the first,
holding of course also, that aU gods but their own God
,vere idols and demons. It is true that the Jews ought
to have been taught by their prophecies w'hat was in
store for the world and for them, and that their first
dispersion through the Empire centuries before Christ
.came, and the proselytes \vhich they collected around
theul in every place, \vere a kind or conuneut on the
prophecies larger than their o"
n; but we see ,vhat
was, in fact, \vhcn our Lorù caIne, their expectation
froln those prophecie
, in the pa
sages which I have
quoted above from the Ron1an historians of His day.
But He from the first resisted those plausible, but mis
taken interpretations of 8cr
pture. In llis eJ"adle in-
deed TIe had been recognized by the J

$tern Sages as
their king; the Angel announced that lie was to reign
,over the house of Jacob; Nathanael, too, owned Hin]
:as the :\Iessiah ,vith a regal title; but He, on entering
upon His work, interpreted these anticipations in His
()wn way, and that not the way of TLeuch1S and Juda.s
of Galilee, who took the sword, and collected soldiers
about them,-nor the ,vay of the Ten1pter, 'who offered
Him" all the kingdoms of the world." In the words
of the Evangelists, He began, not to fight., but" to

Revealed Religion.

45 1

preach j" and further, to "preach the kingdom of
heaven," saying, I' rrhe time is accomplished, and the
kingdom of God is at hand; repent, and believe the
Gospe1." This is the significant title, " the kingòom
of heaven,"-the more significant, ,vhen eXplained by
the attendant precept of repentance and faith,-on
which He founds the polity which He was establishing
from first to last. One of His last sayings before TIe
suffered was, "
Iy kingdom is not of this world." And
His last words, before He left the earth, ,vhen His dis-
ciples asked Hilll about His kingdom, were that they,
preachers as they were, and not soldiers, should" be His
witnesses to the pnd of the earth," should" preach to all
nations, beginning with Jerusalem," should" go into the
world and preach the Gospel to every creature," should
" go and make disciples of all nations till the cOusum-
Ination of all things."
rPhe last Evangelist of tbe four is equally precise in
recording the initial purpose ,vith ,vhich our Lord began
IIis ministry, viz. to create an enlpire, not by force, but
by persuasion. "Light is COlne into the world: every
one that doth evil, hateth the light, but he that cloth
truth, conleth to the light." " Lift up your eyes, and
8Ûl-} thû countries, for they are ,vhite already to harvest."
"No man can come to )Ie, except the Father, who
hath sent
Ie, draw him." " Ânù I, if I be lifted up
from the earth, will draw all things to
Iyself."
Thus, while the Jews, relying on their Scriptures
w'ith great appearance of reason, looked for a deliverer
who should conquer with the s,vord, we find that Chris-
tiaui ty, froln the first, not by an afterthought upon
G C1' .)
r .....

452 Injerence allti Asscut ill Religion.

trial and experience, but as a fundamental trutb, magis-
terially set right that mistake, transfiguring the old
prophecies, and bringing to light, as St. Paul might
say, " the mystery which had been hidden from ages
and generation
, but now was made nlanifest in IIis

aints, the glory of this mystery anlong the Gentiles,
which is Christ in Jon," not simply over you, but in
you, by faith and love, "the hope of glory."
2. I have partly anticipated my next reInark, \vl1ich
relates to the TIleanS by \vhich the Christian enterpri
e
(vas to be carried into effect. That preaching was to
have a share in the victories of the }'Iessiah was plain
from Prophet and Psalmist; but tllen Charlemagne
preached, and 1tInhomet preached, with an army to
back then1. The same Psalm which speaks of those
" ,,,ho preach good tidings," speaks also of their King's
" foot being dipped in the blood of His enemies;" but
,vhat is so grandly original in Christianity is, that on
it
broad field of conflict its preachers were to be simply
unaflned, and to suffer, but to prevail. Ifwe were not
so fanliliar with our Lord's words, I think they would
astonish us. "Behold, I send you as sheep in the nlidst
of wolves." This ,vas to be their norrnal state, and so
it '''fiS; nnd all the premises and directions given to
them imply it. "Blessed are they tbat suffer perse-
cution;" "blessed are ye when they revile you j" " the
meek shall inherit the earth ;" "resist not evil;" "you
shaH be hated of all men for }'Iy K anle's sake ;" "a
man's enemies sl)all be they of his O'V11 household;"
"he t1)at shall persevere to the enLl, he shaH be saved."
\Vbat sort of encouragenlent was this for tnen who 've1'&

Rc'Z)caled Rcligio1Z.

453

to go about an immense work? Do men in thi!'1 ,vay
send out their soldiers to battle, or tbeir sons to India.
01" .A..ustralia? The King of Israel bated
Iicaiah,
because he always "prophesied of him evil." " So
perðecuted they the Prophets that were before you;"
says our Lord. Yes, and the Prophets failed; they
were persecuted and they lost the battle. " Take, 111 y
brethren/' says St. James, "for an exanlple of suffering
evil, of labour and patience, the Prophets, who spake in
the Kame of the Lord." They were" racked, mocke<l,
stoned, cut asunder, they wandered about,-of whom
tbe world was not \vorthy," says St. Paul. 'Vhat an
argument to encourage them to aim at success by
suffering, to put before thern the precedent of those
,vho suffered anù who failed I
Yet the first preachers, our Lord's imnlec1iate dis-
ciples, saw no difficulty in a prospect to hu!nan eyes
so appalling, so hopeless. How connatural this strange,
unreasoning, reckless courage was with their regenerate
state is shown most signally in St. Paul, as baving been
l.L con vert of later vocation. He was no personal asso-
ciate of our Lord"'s, yet how faithfully he echoes back
our Lord's language! His instrument of conversion
is "the foolishness of preaching ;" "the ,veak things
of the earth confound the strong;" "we hunger and
thirst, and are naked, and are buffeted, and have no
home;" "we are reviled and bless, we are persecuted,
and blasphemed, and are lllade the refuse of this world,
and the off
couring of all things." Such is the intimate
cOlnprehension, on the part of one who had never seen
our I.
ord on earth, and knew little from His original

454 Infercnce and .Assent ill Religion.

disciples of the genius of IIis teaching ;-anù consider-
ing that the prophecips, upon which he had lived from
his birth, for the Inost part bear on their surface a
contrary doctrine, and that the J c,vs of that day did
commonly un<lol'''Ìtand thenl in that contrary sense, ,ve
cannot deny that Christianity, in tracing out the method
by which it was to prevail in the future, took its own,
in(lependent line, and, in a
signing from the first a rule
and a his[ory to its propagation, a rule and a history
which have beon carried out to this day, rescues itself
froln the charge of but partially fulfilling those Jewish
prophecies, by the as
umption of a prophetical character
of its own.
3. No". we come to a third point, in which the
Divine ßlaster explains, and in a certain sense correct
,
the prophecies of the Old Covenant, by a more exact
interpretation of them from Himself. I have granted
that they seemed to say that His coming ,vould issue
in a period of peace and religiousness. " Behold," says
the Prophet, " a king shaH reign in justice, and princes
shall rule in judgment. rrhe fool shall no morp be
called prince, neither shrdl the deceitful be called great.
The wolf shall d,vell with the lamb, and the leopard
lip do,vn ,vith the kid. They sball not hurt nor kill
in aU :ßIy holy rnountain, for the earth is fined with
the kn(Hvledge of the Lord, as the covering watel'
of
tb e
ea."
These words seem to predict a reversal of the con-
sequences of the fall, and that revérsal has not yet been
granted to us, it is true; but let us consider how dis-
tinctly Christianity ,varns us against any such anticipa.-

RC'i'calcd Religion.

455

tion. \Yhile it is f'0 forcibly laicl do,vn in tl1t
Gospels
that tl)l
hi:-;tory uf the kingdom of heaV8Il hegins in
suffering" anèt
anctity, it is as plainly said that it results
in unfaithfulness and sin; tbat is to say, that, though
there are at all titne
lTIany holy, nlany religious lHell in
it, and though
atlctity, as at the beginning, is ever
the life auù the
ub
tance and the gern1ÏnaI seed of the
Divine Kingdom, yet there ,vill ever be nUl-ny too, there
will be Dlore, who by their lives are a scandal and
injury to it, not a defence. Thi::; again is an astonishing
announcelnent, and the n10ro so when viewed in contrast
with the precepts delivered by our Lord in IIis Sertnon
on the
Iount, and His de
cription to the ....\pnst1es of
their weapons and their warfare. So perplexing to
Christians ,vas the fact when fulfilled, as it was in no
long time on a large scale, tbat three of the early here-
sies niore or less originated in obstinate, unchristian
refusal to rendn1Ít to the privilege
of the Gospel those
,,'ho had fallen into
in. Yet our Lord's words are
expres
: lIe tells us that "Jlany are called, few are
chosen;" in the parable of tbe
Iarriage t'east, tbe
servant::; who are sent out gather together" all thatj they
found, both bad and good;" the foolish virgins "had
no oil in their vessels;" amid the good seed an enemy
sow
seed that is noxious or worthless; and cc the king-
dom is like to a net ,,'hich gatherecl together all kind
of fishes; " ana" at the end of the ,vorId the Angels
shall go forth, and
han separate the wicked from
among the juc;;t."

oreover, He not only speaks of His religion as
de8tined to possess a wide temporal po,ver, such, that,

456 Inference and A SSCllt iu Religz.oJl.

as in the case of the Babvlonian, "the birds of the air

should dwell in its branches," Lut ITe opens on us the
prospect of ambition and rivalry in its leading luem-
bel's, ,vhen He warns His disciple
against desiring the
first places in IIis kingdonl; nay, of grosser sins, in
II is description of the l
uler, who "began to 'strike
his fellow-servant
: and to eat and drink and be
drullken,"-passages which ha\ e an a\vful significance,
considering what kind of men have before now been
IIis chosen representatives, and have sat in the chair
of IIis Apostles.
If then it be objected that Christianity does Dot, as
the old prophets seem to pronlise, abolish sin and
irreligion ,vi thin its pale, we nlayanswer, not only that
it did not engage to do so, but that actually in a pro-
phetical spirit it warned its followers against the ex-
pectation of its so doing:

9.

According to our Lord's announcement" 1efore the
event, Christianity was to prevail and to beC01l1e a
great empire, and to fill tbe earth; but it \vas to ac-
conlplish this destiny, not as other victorious powers
had done, and as the Jews e:\.pected, by force of arms
or by other lll,.ans of this ,vorld, but by tbe novel ex-
pedient of sanctity and suffering. If some aspiring
party of this day, the great Orleans family, or a branch
of the Hohenzollern, wi
hing to found a kingdom,
were to profess, as. their only weapon, the pl'actice of
,yirtue, they ,yould not startle us more than it startled

l
e,:ealed Religion.

457

a J e\V eighteen hundred years ago, to be told that his
glorious
Ie
:;iah was not to fight, like Jo:-,hua or
David, but siInply to preach. It is indeed a thought
so stra.nge, both in its prediction and in its fuifilment,
as urgently to suggest to us that some Divine Power
went with hitn who conceived and proclaÜned it. This
is what I have been saying ;-now I \Vidh to con
ider
the fact, which WaS predicted, in itself, without refer-
ence to its being the subject whether of a prediction
or of a fulfihllent: that is, the history of the rise and
establi
hIllent of Christianity; and to enquire whether
it is a history that admits of being resolved, by any
philosophical ingenuity, into the ordinary operation of
moral, social, or political causes.
As is well known, yarious writers have attempted to
assign human causes in explanation of the phenomenon:
G'ibbon has especially lnentioned five, viz. the zeal of
Christians, inherited from the Jews, their doctrine of
a future state, their claim to miraculous power, their
virtues, and their ecclesiastical organization. Let us
brieB y consider them.
He thinks these five causes, when combined, will
fairly account for the event; but he has not thought
of accounting for their combination. If they are ever
t>O available for his purpo:::se, still that availableness
arises out of their coincidence, anù out of what does
that. coincidence arise? Until this is explained, nothing
is eX1>lained, and the question had better haye been let
alone. Tht>se presurued cause:; are q uite di
tinct from
each other, and, I
a'y, the wonder 1:;, what nlade thenl
come together. How caIne a multitude of Gentiles te

4.-8
..)

Jllþrt'Jlce and Asse1lt ill l?cligioll.

be inflnenccll with J ewi
h zeal? llow caUle zealcts
to sulHnit to a sb'ict, eccle
iasticall'fgiJ1te? 'Vhat con-
neXiO]l has a secular 'régiute with the inlnlortality of
the soul? "Thy should iml110rtality, a philosophical
doctril1p, lead to belief in n1Ïracle
, which i
a supersti-
tion of the yulgnr ? 'Vhat tendency had n1iracles and
Inngic to n1ake Inen austerely virtuous? Lastly, \vhat
power 'YfiS there in a code of virtue, as calm and en-
lightene.l as that of Antoninus, to generate a zeal as
fierce as that of
[accabæus? \\T onderful events before
now have apparently been nothing but coincidences,
certainly; but they do not become less ,vonderful by
cataloguing their constituent causes, unless we also
sho\v ho\v the
c caIne to be constituent.
llowever, this by the ,vay; the real qupstion is this,
-are these historical characteristics of Christianity,
also in nla tter of fact., historical cau::;e
of Christianity?
Has Gibbon given proof that they are? Ha
he
lwought evidence of their operation, or does be silnply
conjecture in his private judgment that they operated?
'Yhether they were adapted to accolnplish a certain
'work, is a matter of opinion; whether they did accom-
plish it is a question of fact. He ought to adduce
instances of their efficieucy before he has a right to
say that they are efficient. And the second question
is, ,vhat is this efl'ect, of ,vhich they are to be con-
sidered as causes? It is no other than thi
, the con-
version of bodies of 11len to the Christian faith. Let
us keep this in view. 'Ve have to detern1Îne whether
these five characteristics of Christianity were effieient
causes of bodie
of men Lecon1ing Christians? I think

I
cz'ca/ed Reh

iOIt.

459

t1ley neither diJ effect SUCll conver
ion
, nor werø
al1apted to do so, and for these reasons :-
1. For fir::,t, ae; to zeal, by which Gibbon means party
spirit, or e.c:prit de corps; this doubtless is a nlotive
principle ,,,hen nH
n are alrc
uly members of a body,
but does it operate in bringing them into it? The
Jews ,,,cre burll in J uclaism, they haù a. long anJ glori-
ou:o; hi
tol'Y, nUll would naturally feel and t'ho\V esprit
de COl"pS; hut ho'y did party spirit tend to transplant
Jew or Gentile out of his own place into a new society,
and that a society which as yet scarcely was formed in
a society? Zeal, certainly, nIrlY be felt for a cause, or
for a person j on this point I shall sp(.ak pre
ently;
hut Gibbon's iJea of Christian zeal is nothing better
than the old 'wine of Judaism decanted into new Chris-
tian bottle
, and would be too tIat a stinl ulant, even if
it adn1Ïttcù of
uch a transference, to be taken as a.
cause of convel':3iun to Christianity without ùefinite
eviJpnee in proof ùf the fact. Christians haJ zeal for
Chri:..:tiallity rlfter they were converted, not before.
2. X ext, as to the doctrine of a future state.
GiL bOll seClns to mean by this doctrine the fear of
hell; no'v certainly in this day there are persons con-
verted froIH sin to a religious life, by vivid descriptions
of thl
future pnni
hment of the wicked; but then it
IllUSt be recollected that such per
Qns already believe
in the doctrine thus urged upon theln. On the COl1-
trarr, give some Tract upon hell-fire to one of the wild
boys in a large town, who has had no education, who
bas no faith; anù instead of being startled by it, hè
will laugh at it as sOlnething frightfully ridiculous.

460 Inference and .Llssellt in Rell
g-icn

The belief in Styx and Tartaru
wa
dying out of the
world at the time thatChristianityccune in,as the parallel
belief now ::;eems to be dying out in all cla
:5e
of our
own society. The doctrine of eternal puni
hment does
only anger the Inultitude of men in our large town
now,
and rnake them blaspheme; why should it have had
..
any other effect on the heathen population in the age
when our Lord came ? Yet it was among those popu-
la.tions, that He and His Inade their way froln the first.
.AI) to the hope of eternal life, that doubtless, as well
as the fec!.r of hell, was a. most operative doctrine in
the case of rnen who had been actually converted, of
Christians brought before the magi::;trate, or writhing
under torture, but the thought of eterna.l glory does
not keep bad lnen from a bad life now, and why should
it convert them then from their pleasant sins, to a
heavy, mortifieù, joyless existence, to a life of ill-usage,
fright, contelnpt, and desolation.
3. That the claim to miracles should have any wide
influence in fnvour of Christianity alnong heathen
populations, who had plenty of portent:; of their OWIl,
is an opinion in curiou'i contrast with t he objection
against Christianity which has provoked an answer
froln Paley, viz. that "Christian miracles are not
recited or appealed to, by early Christian writers
thelllt'eh.e
, so fully or so frequently as nligbt have
been expected." Paley "olve::, the difficulty as far as
it is a fact, by obser\'ing, as I have suggested, that
"it was their lot to contend with magical agency,
ngainst \vhich the mere production of these fact
WaS
not sufficient for the convincing of their adver::)aries
"

l
ez'cale(l Rell
g-jOJl,

4 61

,. I do not know," he continues," whether they them-
selve
thought it. quite rleci::Üve of the controversy."
A claim to miraculous power on the part of Chri
tian:-:
which was so unfreq uent as to becolue now an objec'-
tion to the fact of their possessing it, can hardly have
been a principal cau:;e of their success.
4. ..\nd how is it possible to imagine with Gibbon
that what he calls the "sober and domestic virtues ., of
Christians, their" aversion to the lu
ury of the agf>,'.
their" chastity, temperance, and econolny," that these
dull qualities were persuasives of a nature to win and
Inelt the hard heathen heart, in spite too of the dreary
prospect of the baJ".ai:hru?/t, the amphitheatre, and the
stake? Did the Christian morality by its severe beauty
make a convert of Gibbon himself? On the contrary

he bitterly says, "It was not in this world that the
primitive Christians were desirous of making themsel veð-
either agreeable or useful." "The virtue of the primi-
tive Christians, like that of the first !{oInans, wa') very
frt
quently guarded by poverty and ignorance." .." Their
g.oomy and austere a
pect, their abhorrence of thp
common busines
and pleasures of life, and their fre-
quent predictions of iInpending calamitie
, inspired the
Pagans with the apprehension of tsome danger which
would arise froln the new s
ct." l[ere" e have not
only Gibbon hating the rnoral and .3ocial bearing, but
his heathen abo. l[ow then were those heathen over-
COIne by the amiableness of that which they viewed
with such disgust? \Ye have here plain proof tbat the
Chri
tian character repelled the heathen; where is the-
e\ idencè that it converted them?

462 Illfereuce a1ld .4ssellt Ùz Religlou.

5. Lastly, as to the ecclesiastical organization, thl
"
doubtless, as tiIHe went on, was a special charactel'i
tic
of the ne'v religion; but how could it directly contribute
to its extension? Of course it gave it
trcngth, but it
did not give it life. \Ve are not born (If bunes and.
111uscle
. It is one thiug to n1ake conquests, another to
con
olia:1te an el11pir. It was before Constantine that,
Christians made their great conquests. Rules are for
i)cttled times, not for time of ,var. So much is this
contrast felt in the Catholic Church no'v, that, as is ,veIl
known, in heathen countries and in countries ,vhich
have thro,vn off her yoke, she suspends her diocesan
adn1Ïnistration and her Canon La"., and puts her chil-
dren under the extraordinary, extra-legal jurisdiction
of Propaganda.
This is what I am led to say on Gibbon's Five Causes.
I do not deny that they n1Ïght have operated now and
then; Simon :\Iagus came to Christianity in 01'.101' to
learn the craft of miracles, and Percgrinus froIll love of
iußuence and po\ver; but Christianity n1ade its ,yay,
not by individual, but by broad, ,vholesale conversions,
and the question is, ho\v they originated?
It is very remarkable that it should not have oc..
curred to a n1an of Gibb()n's sagacity to inquire, what
account the Christians themselve
gave of the matter.
\V oulù it not have been worth while for him to have let
conjecture alone, and to have looked for facts instead?
,\Yhy did he not try the hypothesis of faith, hope, and
charity f Did he never hear of repentance towards
God, and faith in Christ? Did he not recollect the
many words of Å posUes, Bishops, Ap(,logists, 1Iartyrs,

Re'Z'caled ReligIon.

4 6 3

all forming one testimony? X 0; such thoughts are
close upon hiln, and close upon the truth; but he cannot
sYlllpathize with theIn, he cannot believe in them, he
cannot even enter into them, because he needs the due
formatio n for such an exercise of mind} Let us see
whether the facts of the case do not conle out clear and
unequivocal, if ,ve will but have the patience to endure
them.
A Deliverer of the human race through the Jewish
nation had been promised from time imnlelllorial. The
day came when He was to appear, and lIe was eagerly
expected; morpover, One actually did make His appear-
ance at that date in Pa.lestine, and claimed to be Re.
Re left the earth without apparently doing much for
the o
iect of His coming. But when He was gone,
His disciples took upon themselves to go forth to
preach to all parts of the earth ,vith the object of
preaching Hiìì
, and collecting converts in IIi8 -Á.\
(líne.

\.fter a little while they are found wonderfully to have
succeeded. Large bodies of men in various places are
to be seen, professing to be His disciples,o,vning llim
as their King, and continually swelling in number and
penetrating into the populations of the Rotuan Empire;
at length they convert the Elupire itself. All this is
historical fact. Now, ,ve want to know tbe farther
historical fact, viz. the cause of their conversion; in
other words, what were the topics of that preaching
which was so etlcctive ? If we believe what i,; told us
by the preachers anJ their converts, the answer is
plain. They" preached Christ j" they calleù on meD

I ride 8upra. pp. 3 n, 375, 413-416.

464. Il
ferellce aluí A SSCllt ill RcligiüJl.

to believe, hope, and place their affections, in that De-
liverer ,,,ho had come and gone; and the Il1ora1 instrll-
Inent by which they per
uaded theln to do so, was a
description of the life, character, mission, and po,ver of
that Deliverer, a prolnise of His invi
ible Presence and
Protection here, and of the 'Ti
ion and
-'ruition of Hin]
hereafter. Froln first to last to Christians, as to
AbraLarn, He llilnself is the centre and fulness of the
dispen
ation. They, as Abraham, " see l-lis day, and
are glad."
A tetnporal so\ycreign makes himself felt by nleans
of his subordinate ndlllinistrators, who bring bis
power and will to bear upon every individual of his
f:ubjeets who personally know hinl not; the univer
al
Deliverer, long expected, ,vhen He ealne, He too,
instead of making and s
curing subjects by a visible
gl'aciou
ness or Inajcsty, departs ;-but is found,
thrQ.ugh I-lis preacher
, to have imprinted the lInage 2
or idea of IIÏInsclf in the minds of His subjects indi-
vidually ; anù. that Illlage, apprehended and worshippt'd
in inrlividllal nlinds, beconles a principle of association,
and a real bond of those subjects one with another,
who are thus united to the body by being united to
that J mage; and mort3over that lrunge, which is
their moral life, when they Ilave been already COl1-
yerted, is also the original instrument of their con-
version. It is the Image of Hiln who fulfils the one
great need of human nature, the Healer of its wounds,
the Physician of the soul, this linage it is which
both creates faith, and then rewards it..
2 Vide 8upra, pp.
3-30 anù 75-80.

J
l'
'eale(l Religion.

4 6 5

'Yhcn \ve recognize this central Ilnage as thA
vivifying idea. both of the Christian buùy and of
inòiviùuals in it, then, certainly, we are able to take
iuto account at least two of Gibbon's causes, as
having, in connexion with that iùea, some influence
both ill luaking converts and ill strengthening thelIl
to pcrsevere. It ,vas the Thought of Christ, not a
corporate boùy or a doctrine" which inspired that.
'.eal \vhich tho historian so poorly comprehends;
and it 'Ya
the Thought of Christ which gave a life
to the promise of that eternity, which without Hilll
would be, in any soul, nothing short of an intolera-
bl
burden.
K O\v a Inental visIon such as this, perhaps will be
called clouùy, fanciful, unintelligible; that is, in other
words, miraculous. I think it is so. How, without
the Hand of Gud, could a ne\v iùea, one and the-
same, enter at once iuto myriads of men, women",
anù children of all ranks, especially the lower, and
have power to wean them from their indulgences
and sins, and to nerve them against the most cruel
tortures, and to last in vigour as a sustaining influ-
ence for seven or eight generations, till it foundell
an extelldccl polity, broke the obstinacy of the
strongest and ,visest government which the world has
ever seen, and forced its way frnm its first caves
anL catacolubs to the fulness of itnperial power?
III consilh.ring this subject, I shaH confine Iuyself to
the prouf, a:s far as my liniits allow) of two points,-
first., that this Thought or Image of Christ wa
the
principle uf cOllversion and offellowship; and next, that
H h

466 Infercnce and A sscut ill Religion.

ill110ng the lower classes, who had no power, influence,
reputatioll, or education, lay its principal succes::;.s
As to the vivifying idea, this is St. Paul's account of
it: "I Inake known to yon the gospel which I preached
to you, ,,,hich aho you have received, and wherein you
stand; by which also you are saved. For I delivered
to yon fir
t of all t1 clÌ ,vhich I also receiveJ, how that
Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures,"
1-
c., &c. "I am the least of the Apostles; but.,
whether I or they, so we preached, and
o you be-
lieved." "It has pleased God by the foolishness of
preaching to save them that believe." " "\Ve preach
Christ crucified." "I determined to know nothing
-anlong you, but J esns Christ, and Him crucified."
" Your life is hid with Christ in God. 'Vhen Christ,
\vho is your life, shall appear, then you also shall ap-
pear with Him in glory." " I live, but now not 1, UU t
Christ liveth in me."
St. Peter, whù has been accounted the lnaster of a
separate school, says the sallIe: "Jesus Christ, whom
you have Hot seen, yet love; in \VhOlll you now believe,
and shall rejoice."
And St. John, \vho is sometillles accounted a thinl
nlaster in Christianity: "It hath not yet appeareù
what we shall be; but we know that, when lIe shall
appear, we shall bo like to IIiln, because we
hall seo
II ÍIll as lIe i
."

3 Had InJ litllits allowcd it, I ought, 3S a third subject, to have de-
r,cribed tbe existing s
stem of impure idolatrJ, and the wonderful
phenomenon of such multitudes, wLo bad been slavcs to it, escaping f. om
it b)' the pOWer of Christianit)',-uudel" the guidancc of the great wOl'k
.(" On the Gl'lltilc and the J c\\' ") of Dr. Dölliugcr.

l
(vealcd Religion.

4 6 7

That their disciples follo,vcd thenl in this sovereign
devotion to all Invisible Lord, will appear as I proceed.
.
.\..nu next, as to the worldly position and character
of His disciples, our Lord, in the well-known passage,
returns thanks to His Heavenly Father, " because,"
He says, " Thou hast hid these things "-the nlysteries
of Ilis kingdonl-" from the \vise and pruùent, and
hast revealed them to little ones." Anù, in accord-
ance with this announceUlent, St. Paul says that" not
nULllY wise TIlell according to the flesh, not 111any mighty,
nut many noble," becalne Christians. lIe, indeed, is
one of those fe\v; so were others his contemporaries,
and, as time went on, the number of these exceptions
increaseù, so that converts were found, not a few, in
the high places of the Empire, and in the schools of
philosophy and learning; but still the rule held, that
tlH
great Inass of Christians were to be found in those
classes ,vhich were of no account in the world, whether
on the score of rank or of education.
'Ve all know this was the case with our Lord and IIis
A postles. It seeillS almost irreverent to speak of their
teluporal eruployments, when we are so simplyaccus-
tOllll\d to consider them in their spiritual associations;
hut it is profitable to reIllind ourselves that our Lord
IIinlself ,vas a. sort of smith, and made ploughs and
cattle-yokes. Four Apostles ,vere fi
herlllen, one a
pett.y tax collector, two husbandmen, and another is
said to have been a market gardener." \Vhen Peter

4 On the subjects which follow. vide Lami, De Erltditione Apusto-
lnrum; :\Iam:\chius, Origines Cllrist.; Ruinart, Act. Mart.; Lardner,
Credibility, &c. ; Fleury, Eccles. Hist. ; Kortbolt, Calltmll. PagalJ. ; and
De ..1Iorib. Christ., &c.

H h 2

468 Inferc1lce a1ld Assent in Religion.

and John were brought before the Council, they are
spoken uf as being, in a. secula.r point of view, "illiterate
llleD, and of the lower sort," and thus they are spoken
of in n tLter age by the Fathers.
That their converts were of the same rank as them-
selves, is reported, in their favour or to their discredit,
by friends and eneIl1Ïcs, for four centuries. " If a lHan
be educated," says Celsus in Inockery, "let him keep
clear of us Chri
tians; ,ve want no men of wisdom, n(')
men of
ense. ".,. e account all such as evil. No; but,
if there be one ,vho is inexperienced, or stupid, or un-
taught., or a fool, let hÏ1n come with good heart."
" They are weavers," he says elsewhere, " shoemakers,
fullers, illiterate, clowIls." "Fools, low-born fello,vs,"
says rrrypho. "The greater part of you," says Cæci-
lius, "are worn with wa.nt, cold, toil, and famine; tnen
collected from the lowe
t dregs of the people; ignorant,
credulous women j" "unpolished, boors, illiterate, ig-
norant even of the sordid arts of lifp; they do not
under:;tanù evey{ civil lnatters, how can they under-
stand di VI ue ? " "They have left their tongs, nlallets,
and anvils, to prt.'élch about the things of heavcn,"
say
Liballius. "They deceive women, servants, and
slave
," says .} uliano The author of Philopatris speaks
of thenl as "poor creatures, blocks, withered old
fellows, n1en of downcast and pale visages. " As to
their religion, it had the reputation popularly, accord-
ing to various Fathers, of being an anile superstition,
the discovery of old ,vornen, a joke, a madness, an in-
fatuation, an absurdity, a fanaticisrn.
The Fathers themselves confirm these statements, so

)?e'l'l1aled Religio1l.

4 6 9

far as they relate to the insignificance and iqnoranco of
their brethren. ....\..thpnagoras speak
of the virtue of
their "ignorant men, mechanics, and old ,vonlen."
" They are gathered,'; says St. Jerome, "not from the
Academy or Lyceum, bnt froill the lo'v populace."
"They are white5lniths, servants, farIn-labourers,
w0odlUCO, men of sorJid trades, beggar
," says 'rheo-
d0ret. ,,\,r e are engaged in the farm, in the market,
at the baths, wine-shop:.;, stables, and fairs; as seamen,
as soldiers, as peasant:;, as dealer
,"
ays 'fertullian.
IIow came such men to be c(Jnverted? and, being con-
verted, ho'v caIne such lllen to overturn the world?
Yet they ,,-eut forth from the first, "conquering and
to conquer."
The first manifestation of their formidable number

is made just about the time when St. Peter and St.
Paul suflered martyrJoIll, anù was the cause of a terrible
persecution. ,,-r e have the account of it in Tacitus.
" S ero," he says, "to put an end to the common talk
[that ROIne had been 8et on fire by his order], imputed
it to others, visiting with a refinement of punishment
those detestable crin1Ínals ,vho ,vent by the name of
Chri8tialls. The author of that denomination "a::3
Christus, ,vho had Leen executed in 'l'iberius's time by
the procurator, Poutius Pilate. The pestilent super-
stition, checkeù for a while, burst out agaill, nut only
throughout J udea, the first seat of the evil, but even
throughout l{ome, the centre both of conHuence and
outbreak of all that is atrocious and disgraceful from
every quartel.. First "
ere arrested those ,vho maùe
un secret of their sect j and by this clue a vast Il1ulti-

470 IJlfi:rcllce aUtl A sscnt Ùl Religion.

tude uf others, convicted not so much of firing the
city, as of hatred to the human race. :\Iockery W.iS
added to death; clad in skins of beasts, they "
ere
torn to pieces Ly dogs; they were nailed up to
cro
ses; they were made inflammable, so that, ",'heu
day failed, they illight serve as lights. Hence, guilty
as they '\.ere, and descrving of exemplary punishment,
they excit.cJ con)passion, as being destroyed, not for
the public welfare, but from the crue1ty of one man."
'1'he two Apostles
uffered, and a silence follo\,"s of a
whule generation. At the end of thirty or forty years,
Pliny, thp frieud of Trajan, as ,,-ell as of Tacitus, is
sent a
tllat Erllpcror's l>ropl'ætor into Bithynia, and
is startled and pprplexeù by the nUluher, influence,
and pertinacity of the Christians whom he finùs there,
and in the neighbouring province of Pontus. He has
the opportunity of being far more fair to them than
his fri
nd the hi-.;torian. ITe 'writes to Trajan to kuuw
how l1e ought to deal with thein, and I will quote
sorne portions of his letter.
lie says he does not know how to proceed wi th
thein, as their religion has not received toleration froln
the state. He never was present at any trial of thelll ;
he doubted whether the children aillong them, as ,yell
as gro,vn people, ought to be accounted as culprits;
whether recantation would set matters right, or
whether they iBcurred punishment all the same;
whether they were to be punished, merely becau
e
Christians, e'"en though no definite crime ,vas proved
ngain
t them. Hi
way had been to examine them,
and pu t quc,;tiol1s to them; if they confess8d the

Revealed Religion.

4.jl

charg0, he gave theln one or two chances, threatening
then1 ,,
ith punislnncnt; then, if they persisted, he
gave orùers for their execution. ":Fur," he argue
,
" I felt no ùoubt that, whatever might be the character
of their opinions, stubborn and inflexible obstinacy
deserved pUuis}llllent. Others there were of a like
infatnation, whom, being citizens, I sent to nOlne."
Some satisfied him; they repeated after him au
invocation to the gods, and offereù wine and iucense
to the Emperor's image, anù in addition, cursed the
name of Christ. "Accordingly," he says, " I let them
go; for I aUI told nothing can cOllIpel a real Christian
to do any of these things." There were others, too"
,yho ::sacrificed; who had been Christians, some of them
for as many as twenty years.
Then he is curious to know something more definite
about them. "This, the inforruers told me, was the
whole of their crinlc or mistake, that they ,vere accus-
tonled to n

elnble on a stated day before dawn, and
to say together a hymn to Christ as a god, and to bind
themselves by an oath [ sacramento] (not to any crime,
but on the contral'Y) to keep from theft, robbery,
adultery, breach of promise, anù making free- with
deposits. ..lfter this they uSèd to separate, :'Lnd then
to meet again for a meal, which was social and harm-
le
s. However, they left even that off, after my Edict
against their meeting."
This information led him to put to the torture two
n1aid-
er\-ants, "'who were called ministers," in order
to find out ,-çLat was true, what was false in it j but he
says he could nIake out nothing, except a depraved

4
"
/-

.lJ/ference and A SS
'Jlt Ùt RellgÚ n.

and excessive superstition. This is what led him to
consult the Emperor, "especially because of the
number ,vho were inlp1icated in it; for the
e are, or
are likely to be, Dlany, of all ages, nay, of both Eexes.
For the contagion of this superstition has spread, not
only in the cities, but about the villages and the open
.
country." He add
that already there was some
ilnprovement. "The ahllost forsaken temples begin
to be fìl1t>ù again, and the sacred solemnities after a
long intl'rlni
sion are revived. Victims, too, are again
on sale, purchasers having been most rare to find."
The salient points in this account are these, that, at
the end of one generation from the .A_postles, nay,
ahnost in the lifetime of St. John, Christians had so
,videly spread in a large district of Asia, as nearly to
suppress the Pagan religions there j that they ,ver

people of exelnplary lives; tbat they bad a name for
invincible fidelity to their religion; that no threats (,)1'
sn fferings could make then1 deny it j and that their
only tangiblp characteristic was the wor3hip of our Lord.
This wm
at the beginning of the second century;
not a great many years after, we have another
aL'count of the Ohristian body, fronI an anonymous
Greek Christian, in a letter to a friend whonl he was
anxious to convert. It is fa.r too long to quote,
and diffie-nIt to compress j but a few sentences ,viII
show how strikingly it agrees ,,,,ith the account of the
heathpn Pliny, especially in two points,-first, in the
numbers of the Christians, secondly, on devotion to
our Lord as the vivifying principle of their a
:-:ociation.
" Christians,"
ays the writer, " differ not froo1 other

RC':'caled Religion.

473

men in country, or speech, or customs. They do not
livp in cities of their own, or speak in any peculiar
dialect, or adopt any strange modes of living. They
inhabit theIr native countries, but as sojourners; the}
titke their part in all burdens, as if citizens, and in all
sufferillg
, as if they were strangel's. In foreign
countries they recognize a borne, and in every home
they see a foreign country. They marry like other
rTIen, but do not disown their cLilllren. They obey the
established law
, but they go beyond them in the
tenor of their lives. They love aU men, and are perse-
cuted by all; they are not known, and they are
conden1ned; they are poor, and make many rich j
they are dishonoured, yet in dishonour they are glori-
fied; they are slandered, and they are cleared j they
are called D;.mes, and they b]e8s. By the Jews they
are assailed as aliens, by the Greeks they are per
e-
cuted, nor can they who hate them say why.
" Christians are in the world, as the
oul in the body.
The soul pervades the limbs of the body, and Christians
the cities of the world. The flesh hates the soul, and
,val'S against it, though suffering no wrong from it; and
the world hates Christians. The soul loves the flesh
that hates it, and Christians love tbeir enemieg.
Their tradition is not an earthly invention, nor is it
a lllortal thought 'which they so cal'L"fnl1y guard, nor a
dispensation of human nlysteries ,vhich is committed
to their charge; but God Himself, the Omnipotent
and Invisible Creator, has from heaven established
an10ng men His Truth and His ".ord, the Holy and
1 ncoruprehensible, and has deeply fixed the same in

4i 4 IllfeJ CJlr{} and A SSCJlt ill Relig-zo,z.

their hcart
; not, as Inight be expected, senùing allY
servant, angcl, or prince, or administrator of things
earthly or heavenly, Lut the very Artificer nnd Deilli-
urge of the Universe. Him God hath sent to tHaD,
not to in:Hict terror, but in clelnency and gelltlelle
s,
as a I{ing senùing a King who ,va!::; His Son j ITe sent
IIim as God to men, to save them. lIe hateù not,
nor l'ejt>cted us, nor remembered our guilt, but sho,ved
IIirllself long-suffering, and, in His own words, bore
our SIns. He gave His own Son as a ran
onl for us,
the just for tbe unjust. For what other thing, except
Ilis ltighteousness, could cover our guilt? In whom
\\'as it possible for us, lawless sinners, to find justifica-
tIon, sa Ye iu the 80n of God alone? 0 s,ycet intel'-
change! 0 hea\'"cnly ,yorkmnnship past finding out!
o benefits exceeding expectation! Sending, then, a
Saviour, ,,,ho is able to save those who of thenlselves
are incapable of salvation, lie has willed that ,ve
f'hould regard IIim as our Guardian, Father, 'reacher,
rounsellor, l}hysician; our
lind, Light, Honour,
Glory, Strength, and Life." 6
The ,vriting from ,vhich I have been quoting is of
the early part of the second century. 'Twenty or
thirty years after it St. J ustin
lartyr speaks as
strongly of tbe spread of tbe new Religion: " 1 ' here
is not anyone race of men," he says, "barbarian or
G-reek, naJ", of thos0 ,vho live in ,vaggolls, or who are
KOlllac1s, or Shepherds in tents, alnong whom prayers
and eucharists are not offered to the Father and
l\Iaker of the Universe, through the nanle of the cruci-
fied Jesus.

, Ep. fl<l Diognct.

.

Re'i./ealed Religion.

475

Towards th(' end of the century, Clell1ent :-" The
word of our illaster did not remain in J udea, as philo-
sophy remained in Greece, but hac;; been poured out
over the whole world, persuading Greeks and Bar-
barians alike, race by race, village by village, ev('ry
city, ",.hole houses, and hearers one hy ùne, nay, not a
few of the philosophers themselves."
..l\..lld Tertllllian, at the very close of it, could in Ins
.1pologia even proceed to threaten the ROllUtn Govern-
ment :-" "
e are a people of yesterdftJY," he says;
" and yet ,ve have filled every place belonging- to you,
cities, islands. castles, towns, assemblies, your very
camp, your tribes, companies, palaces, senate, forum.
"
e leave you your temples only. 'Ve can count your
armies, and our nurnbers in a single province will be
gl'eater. In wha.t ,val' with you should we not be
Eufficicnt and really, even though unequal in numbers,
who so ,....illingly are put to death, if it 'v ere not in this
l{e1igion of our
more lawful to be slain than to slay?
Once more, let us hear the great Origen, in the
early part of the next century :-" In all Greece and
in all barbarous races within our world, there are tens
of thousands who have left their national laws and cus-
tOlnary gods for the la,vof
Io
es anJ the word of Jesus
Chri
t; though to adhere to that law is to incur the
hatrpd of idolaters, and the risk uf death besides to
bave etnbraced that word. .dnd considering how, in
so few years, in spite of the attacks ulade on us, to
the loss of life or property, and with no great store
of teachers, the pl
eaehing of that word has found its
way into every p
rt of the world, so that Greek and

4ï6 IJlj'crcJlce and Assent ill Religion.

bal'bariaB
, wi
e and ullwise, adhere to the religion of
(1 L'su
, douLtles:3 it is a \vork greater than any 'york of
In an."

'\T (' need no proof to assure us that this steady and
rapid growth of Christianity was a phenomenon which
startled its conteulporaries, as much as it excites the
.
curiosity of philosophic histori1.lls no,v; and they too
had th('ir ow.n ways then of accounting for it, different
indeed froin Gibbon's, but quite as pertiuent, though
less elaborate. The
e werp principally bvo, both leaù-
ing them to persecutp it,-the obstinacy of tbe Chris-
tians and their 111ngical powers, of which the foriner
,,,as tlH
explanation adopted by educated lllinds, and
the latter chiefly by the populace.
.A IS to the forIllcr, from first to last, nlen in power
Inag-lsterially reprobate the senseless oLstinacy of the
meTH bel's of the new sect, as their characteristic offence.
Pliny, as we have seen, found it to be their only fault,
l,ut one sufficient to n1erit capita'! punislunclJt. 'fhe
Enlperor
Iarcus seelns to consider obstinacy the ulti-
Jnate n10tive-causp to \vhich their ullllatural conduct
\yas traceable. After speaking of the soul, a
"rea(ly,
if it must now be separated froln the body, tobe extin-
guished, or dissolved, or to remain with it;" he ac1ds'
" but the readiness must cume of its own judglllcnt, not
frOln
imple pe\-erseness, as in the case of Chri
tiansJ
but .with considerateness, with gravity, and without
theatrical effect, so as to be persuasive." And Diocletiau,
in his Edict of persecution, professes it to be his
,e earnest aim to punish the depraved persistence oí
those most wicked nu
n,:'

I?evealed Religion.

4ï7

L\.S to the lattor charge, their founder, it wat::; said, hall
gaillcù a knowleùge of magic in Bgypt, ana h'ld lpft
behil1ù him in Lis
acred books the secrets of the art.
Suetollius hilnself speaks of theln a
cC l11ell of a n1agical
superstition ;" and Celsus accn
cs them of"inca.lltations
in the l1aTne of ùen1011s." The officer who had cu
wdy
of t;t. Pl->l'petua, fpared her escape from prison "hy
IT1agieal incantations." \Vhen St. Tiburtius haù walked
barefoot on hot coals, his judge cried out that Chri
t
had taught him Inagic. St. Anastasia 'vas thrown into
prison as dealing in poisons; the popnlace call d out
against St. Agnes, "A, way with the ,vitch! away
with the sorceress!" 'Yhl'n St. Bonosus and St.

r aximi1ian bore the burning pitch ,vithout shrink-
ing, J e" s and heathen cried out, "TLose wizarùs and
sorcerers! " " \Vhat 110\V delusion," says the luagistraoo
concerning St. ROluanus, in the HYlun of Prudentiu
,
(C has brought in these sophists who deny the worship
of the Gods? ho'v doth this chief
orcerer 1110ck us,
skilled by his Thes
a1ian Cha1'111 to laugh at punish-
ment ? " 6
It is indeed difficult to enter into the feelings or
irritation anù fear, of contelnpt and amaZCYl1ent, w'hich
were excited, 'whether in the town populace or in the
n1agistrates, in the presence of conduct so novel, so nn-
varying, so absolutely beyond tLeir cornpreheusion.
The very young and the very old, the child, the youth
in the heyday of his passions, the sobl.1r man of 111iddle
nge, Inaidens and mothers of fan1Ïlies, boors anlI slaves
as wéll as philosophers and nobles, solitary confessors.

I .E:,
aJ on Development of Doctrine, ch. iv. 9 1.

47(:) Inference allti Asscnt in l(C!

I{Jl/'.

and companies of men and womenJ-all these wcrp seen
equally to defy the powers of darkness to do their ,vorst.
In this strange encounter it became a point of honour
,,,ith the l{oman to break the detern1Ïuation of his
victiul, and it was the triumph of faith ,vhen his most
sa vage expedients for that purpose were found to be in
vaIn. The martyrs shrank from suHering like other
nlen, but such natural shrinking ,vas incommensurable
".ith apostasy. :No intensity of torture had any means
of affecting what was a III ental conviction; and the
sovereign Thought in which they had lived was their
adequat0
upport and consolation in their death. To
thenl the pro
pect of wounds and loss of litll bs wa") not
In01'e terrible than it is to the combatant of this world.
ffhey faced the Ünplements of torture as the soldier
takes his post before the enemy's battery. They
cheered and ran forward to n1eet his attack, and as it
were dared him, if he ,vould, to destroy the nUll1bers who
kept closing up the foren1o
t rank, as their cOlnrade

,,'ho had filled it. fell. ...\.nd when Rome at last found
she had to deal ,,,,ith a host of
cævo]as, then the
proudest of earthly sovereignties, arrayed in the com-
plet,eness of her matprial l'e
ources, humbled herself
before a power w hich wa
founded on a nlere scnbe of
the unseen.
I n the colloquy of the aged Ignatiug, the disciple of
t hp
\.postles, with the Emperor Trajan: ,ve have a sort of
type of what ,vent 011 for th ree, or rather four centuries.
lIe 'vas sent all the ,yay from Antioch to Rome to
be devoured by the beast.s in the amphitheatre. As
he travei1ed, he ,vrote letters to various Christi: n

f(c'i/caled Rel
floll.

4ï9

Churc11es, anù among others to his Rom'tn brethrcn,
Rmong whonl he was to suffer, Let us see whether, as
I ha.ve said, the Inlage of that Divine King, who had
bcen promised fronl the beginning, was not the living
principle of his obstinate resolve. The 01<1 luan is
almost fierce in his determination to be martyred.
" :Jlay those beasts," he says to his brethren, "be my
f!ain, wl1Ïch are in readiness for me! I will provoke and
coax them to devour me quickly, and not to be afraid
of me, as tht'y are of some whom they will not touch.
Should they be unwilling, I win conlpel them. Bear
\vith llle j I know what is my gain. N ow I begin to be
a disciple. Of nothing of things visible or invisible am
I ambitious, save to gain Christ. 'Vhether it is fire or
the cross, the assault of wild beasts, the wrenching of
my bones, the crunching of my lin1bs, the crushing of n1Y
whole body, let the tortures of the devil all assail me,
if I do but gain Christ Jesu
." Elsewhere ill the same
Epistle he says, "I write to you, still alive, but longing
to die.
Iy Love is crucified! I have no taste for
perishable food. I long for God's Bread, heavenly
Bread, Breaù of life, which is Flesh of Jesus ChrIst;
the Son of God. I long for God's draught, His Blood,
which is Love without corruption, and Life for e\.er-
rllore." It i
said that, ,vheu he caIne iuto the presence
of Trajan, the latter cried out, "-\Vho art
you, poor
devil, who are so eager to transgre:::;s our rules?"
"That is no name," he answered, "for Theophorus."
H "-ho is Theophorus?" asked the Enlperor. " He
who bear:-; Christ in his brea
t." In the Apostle's
words, already cited, he Lad" Christ in hillI, the hope

480 Illfi:rt'Jlce alld Asscnt ill l?etzglOJl.

of glory." An this may he called euthusiasln; but
enthusiasnl nfforJs a much nlore adequate explanation
of the cOllfessol'ship of an old luan, than do Gibbon's
fi ve rpasons.
Instances úf the same aròent spirit, and of the living
faith on which it \Va.;:, foundeù, are to be found \vherever
we open the .Lid Jlttrlynun. In the outbreak at
SlllYl'Ua, in the Iniddle of the second century, amid
tortures which e\Ten 1110\ped the heatJJen bystanders to
cOlllpassiun, the sufferel's were conspicuous for their
sereno caln1uess. "They made it evident to us all,"
S3YS the Epistle of the Church, "that in the midst of
those sufferin
s they were absent from the body, or
l'atl1er, that the l..ord stood by them, and walked in
the mi<lst of theln."
At that time l>olycarp, the fan1Ïliar friend of St.
John, and a COUh
ll1pOl'ary of Ignatius, suffered in his
extl'enle old age. 'Vhen, before his sentence, the
Proconsul L.aàe him" s,vear by the fortunes of Cresar,
and have done with Christ," his answer betI'ayed that
illtirnate devotion to the self-same Idea, ,vhich had
been the iuward lifo of Ignatius. "Eighty and
ix
years," he answered, "have I ùeen His servant, and
He Las nevel' wronged tile, but ever has preserved me ;
and how can I bla::;phelne illY I
ing and Iny Saviour? "
'Yhell they would have fastened Lilli to the stake, ho
said, "Let alone; lIe who gives me to bear the fire,
will give 111e also to stand firm upon the pyre without
Jour nails."
Chl'i
tiallS felt it as an acceptable service to IIiul
who loved then1, to confess with courage ana to suffer

RCl'ca/cd l?eligioll.

4 81

witll digllity. In this chivalrous spirito, as it Illay b

called, they fnet the \vords and deeds of thcir perse-
cutors, as the chih1rpn of men return bittern('
s for
bitterness, and blo\v for blo\v. H'Vhat soh1icr," say

Iinucius, with a reference to the invisible Prescnce of
our Lord, "does not challenge danger more daringly
under the eye of his comlnander?" In tl1at same
outbreak at Smyrna, when the Proconsul urged the
young GernlaniCllS to have mercy on hÍlnse1f and on
his youth, to the astonishment, of the populace he pro-
voked a wild beast to faU upon him. In like IlH1nner,

t. J U:-;till tells us of Lucius, who, when he saw a
Chri
tian
ent off to suffer, at once remonstrated
sharpJy with the judge, and ,yas sent off to execution
with hirn; and then another presented himself, anrl
was sent off also. 'Vhen the Christians were thrown
into pri
on, in the fierce per:3ccntion at Lyons, Vettius
Epagathns, a youth of distinction ,vho had given him-
self to an a:scetic life, could not bear the sight of the
sufferings of his brethren, and ask8d leave to plead
their cause. rrhü only answer he got was to be sent
off the first to die. \VLat the contemporary account
sees in his conduct is, not that he was zealous for hi::;
Lretln'cn, though zealous he was, nor that he believed
in miracles, though he doubtless did believe; but that
he cc "-as a gracious disciple of Christ, foIJowing the
Lamb ,,-hithpr
oever He went." .
In that lllellloraLle persecution, when Rlandina, n,
f'laye, was seized for confe
sor:-;hipJ her mi
tress ana
her fello\v-Clll'i
tialls dreaded lc::;t, from her delicate
ulake, she shoulJ give \Yay under the tornll'nts; but
I )

482 Inference and A SSCllt in Relzgoion.

he even bred out her tormentors. It ,vas a refresh.
ment and relief to her to cry out amid her pains, "1
am a Christian." They remanded her to prison, anù
thl'n brought her out for fresh suffering a second day
.and a thirJ. On the l1,st day she saw a boy of fifteen
brought into the amphitheatre for death; she fcared
for him, as others h;d feared for her; but he too went
through his trial generously, and ,vent to God before
her. TIer last sufferiugs were to be placpd in the
notorious r
d-hot chair, and then to be exposed in a
net to a ,vild bull; they :t1nished by cutting her throat.
Sanctus, too, when the burning plates of brass were
placed on his limbs, all through his torments did but
say, "I alll a Christian," and stood erect and firm,

'bathed and strengthened," say his brethren ,vho
\\ rite the account, "in the heavenly ,veIl of living
'Water which flows from the breast of Christ," or, as
they say else,vhere of all the martyrs, "refreshed w.ith
the joy of martyrdom, the hope of blessedness, love
towards Christ, and the spirit of God the Fathel'."
IIow clearly do we see all through this narrative ,vhat
it was which nerved them for the combat! If they love
their brethren, it is in the fellowship of their Lord; if
tbey look for heaven, it is because He is the Light of it.
Epipodius, a youth of gentle nurture, when struck
by the Prefect on the mouth, ,vhile blood flowed frun1
it, crieù out, "I confe
s that Jesus Christ is God.
together with the Father and the IIoly Gho
t."
Symphorian, of Autun) also a youth, and of noble
hirth, when told to adore an idol, ans,vered, " Give me
leave, aud I \vill haullner it to pieces." \\'hen Leoni-

Revealctí Religioll.

4 8 3

das, t11e father of the young Origen, was in prison for
his faith, HIe boy, then sevente6n, burned to share Lis
martyrdom, and his mother had to hide his clothes to
prevent him from executing his purpose. Afterwards
he attended the confessors in prison, stood by them
at the tribunal, and gave them the kiss of peace
when they were led out to suffer, and this, in spite of
being several times apprehended and put upon the
rack. Also in Alexandria, the beautiful slave, Pota-
mirena, when about to be stripped in order to be
thrown into the cauldron of hot pitch, said to the
Prefect, "I pray you rather let me be dipped down
slowly int.o it with my clothes on, and you shall see
with what patience I am gifted by HiIll of ,vhom you
are ignorant, Jesus Christ." 'Vhen the populace in
the same city had beaten out the aged Apollonia's
teeth, and lit a fire to burn her, unless she would
blasphellle, she leaped into the fire herself, and su
gained her crown. "\Vhen Sixtus, Bishop of RaIne,
,vas led to lllartyrdom, his deacùn, Laurence, followed
him weeping and complaining, " 0 my father, whither
goest thou without thy son?" And when his own turn
came, three days afterwards, and he was put upon the
griùiron, after a while he said to the Prefect, " Turn
IIle j this side is done." "\Vhence came this tremen-
dous spirit, scaring, nay, ofÌelh.ling, the fastidious
criticism of our delicate days? Does Gihbon think to
sound the depths of the eternal ocean ,vith the tape
ana measuring-rod of his merely literary philosophy?
"\fLen Barulas, a child of seven year:o; old, was
scourged to blood for repeating' his catechi:5111 before
J 1

484 .Infereuce aud A SSCllt Z'1l Relig-ioll.

the heathen judge-viz. "There is but one God. and
Jesus Chri
t is true God "-his rnother cncour
lged
him to persevere, chiding him for asking for sonle
drink. At
ferida, a girl of noble family, of the age
of twelve, presented herself before the tribunal, and
overturned the iùols. She was scourged and burned
with torches; fibe neither shed 3. tear, nor showed
other signs of suffering. '''"hen the fire reached her
face, she openeù her mouth to receive it, and ,\\ras
suffucated. At Cæsarea, a girl, under eighteen, went
boldly to ask the prayers of SOllie Christians who were
in chair.s before the Pl'ætorium. She was seized at
once, and her sides torn open with the iron rakes,
pre
erving the while :1 hright and joyous countenance.
Peter, I)orotheu
, Gorgoniu
, were boys of the inlperial
hcdcluunher; they were higl11y in favour with their
Illaster
, and "\\
ere Christians. They ton suffered
dreadful tormeuts, dying uIHler theIn, without a
shadow of wavering. Call such conùuct lunòness, if
you win, or TIlagic: but do not Inock us by ascribing
it in such lnere children to siruple ùesire of iUlnlortality.
or to any ecclesiastical organizntion.
'Yhen the persecution raged in 4..\.sia, H, vast Inn1ti-
tude of Christians presented them
clYes before the
Proconsul, challenging hitn to proceed against then1.
"Poor "Tetches!" half in contelupt and half in
affright, lIe ans,vel'cd, (C if you n1ust die, cannot you
find ropes or precipices for the purpose?" l\..t Utica,
a hundred and fifty Chl'istialls of both scxes and aU
ages were Inal'tyrs in oue cumpany. TÌ1cy are said to
l J <-t \
e been told to burn incen
e to au idol, or they

RC'i.'caled Rcligzou.

4 8 5

sh()uld be tIn'own into a pit of burning lillle; they
,vithout he-sitation leapt into it. In Egypt a hunùred
and twenty confessorR, after having sustained the lo

of eyes or of feet, endured to linger out their lives in
the mines of Palestine and Cilici
. In the la
t pcr;o-c-
cution, according to the te
tin1ony of the grave
Eusebius, a contelllpOrary, the slaughter of men,
women, ancl children, went on hy twenties, sixties,
Lundreds, till the instrulnents of execution were w'orn
out, and the executioners could kill no luore. Yet he
tells us, as an eye-,vitness, that, as soon as any Chri
-
tians were condelnned, otliers ran froln all part
, and
surrounded the tribunals, confessing the faith, and
joyfully receiving their condemnation, and singing
songs of thanksgiving and triun1ph to the last.

Thus ,vas the Roman power ovel'COlne. Thus diJ
the Seed of Abrahan1, and the
xpectation of the
Gentiles, the meek Son of man, " take to Rin1self Ilis
great po,ver and reign" in the henJrts of His people. in
the public theatre of the world. The Inodo in which
the prÏ1neval prophecy was fulfilled is as marvellous, as
the prophecy itself is clear and bold.
"So may all 'rhy cne1l1ies perish, 0 Lord; but Jet
them that love Thee shine, as the sun shineth in his
ri
ing ! "

I will add the memor
ble words of the two great
Apologists of the period :-
" Your cruelty," says Tertllllian, "though each act
be Ulore refined than the last, doth profit you nothing.

486 Infercnce and Assent III ReligIon.

To our sect it is rather an inducement. '''T e grow up
in grcatcr llumbers, as often as you cut us do,vn. The
blood of t1le martyrs is their seed for the harve,;t."
Origen even uses the language of prophecy. To the
obj
ction of Celsus that Christianity froIn its principlps
wouhl, if let alone, open the whole clnpire to tIle irrup-
tion of the barbarian;, and the utter ruin of civiliz:ltion,
he r
plies, "If all Ron1ans are such as we, then too
thp barbarians will draw near to the VV ord of God, anù
will become the most observant of the La\v. And
evcry worship shall con1e to nought, and that of the
Christians alone obtain the mastery, for the Word is
continually gaining l)o
session of more and more souls."
One additional rernark :-It ,vas fitting that those
mixed unlettered multitudes, who for three centuries
Laa sulfered and triumphed Ly virtue of the in\vard
Vision of their Divine Lord, should be selected, as ,ve
kno\v they were, in the fourth, to be the special chau1-
pions of IIis Divinity and the victorious foes of its
impugners, at a time when the civil po,ver, which had
found them too strong for its arms, attelnpted, by
means of a portentous heresy in the high places of the
Church, to rob them of th
t Truth which had all along
been the principle of theil" strength.

10.

I have been forestaIIing all along tIle thought with
which 1 shall close these considerations on the subject
of Christianity; and necessarily forestalling it, because
it properly come
first, though the course which nIY

Ll'gull1ellt has taken Ilas not allowed me to introduce it

Re;'calcd Rpligz"oll.

4 8 7

in its natural place. Revelation begin
,vhere Katural
Religion fail
. 'fhe l
eligion of N aturo i
a nlere
inchoation, and needs a complement,-it can have hut
one cOlnp1elnent, and that very complclnent is Chris-
tianity.
Katural TIplig-ion is based upon the sense of sin; it
recognizps the disease, but it cannot find, it does but
look out for the remedy. That rerneùy, both for guilt
and for llloral impotence, is found in the central doc-
trine of Revelation, the
Iediation of Christ. I need
not go into a
ubject so fan1Ïliar to an men in a Chris-
tian country.
Thus it is that Christianity is the fulfilment of the
promise rnade to Abraham, and of the
losaic revela-
tions; this is ho,v it has been able from the first to
occupy the .world and gain a hold on every class of
human society to which its preachers reached; this is
why the l
oman power and the Dlultitude of religions
which it enlbraceù could not stand against it; this is
the secret of its sust'lincd energy, and its never-flag-
ging ll1artyrJoll1S; this is how at prèsent it is so
mysteriously potent, in spite of the new and fearful
adv('r
aries which beset its path. It has ,vith it that
gift of staunching and healing the one deep wound of
human nature, which avails lTIOre for its success than a
full encyclopedia of scientific knowledge and a whole
libra.ry of controversy, and therefore it Blust last while
hUlnan nature last8. It is a living truth which never

an grow old.
Some per:-:ons speak of it as if it were a thing of his-
tory, wit h only inùirect hearings upon modern times;

488 Infercnce and Assent ill Religion.

I cannot allo\v that it is a mere hi
torical relio-ion.
o
Certainly it has its foundatiolJs in past and glurious
mCIllories, Lut its power is in the present. It is 110
dreary matter of antiquarianism; we Jo not contem-
plate it in conclusions drawn frOBl dumb documents
and dead events, but by faith exercised in ever-1iving
objects, and by t.he appropriation and u
e of ever-
recurrill O' O'ifts.
00
Onr COlnll1Union with it is ill the unseen, not in the
obsolete. At this very d
tY its rites and ordinances are
continua lly eliciting the active interposition of that
Onn1Ïpotence ill ,vhich the Religion 10ug ago began.
First and above all is the Holy
Ia
s, ill ,vhich lIe
who once died for us upon the Cross, brings back and
perpetuates, Ly His literal presence in it, that one and
the 8:-\n1e f'acrifice ,vhich cannot be r('pcatec1. Next,
there is the a.ctual entrance uf 1 I i rll
elf, soul and body.
and divillity, into the sou] auù LuJy of every \, 01'-
shipper who comes to Hilu for the gift) a, privilege
Illore intinu1te than if we lived ,vith Hin1 during
Tli8 long-pa
t sojourn upon earth. .....'l.nd then, more-
ovelj thcrp is His personal abidance in our ch'lrches,
raising earthly service into a foretaste of heaven.
Such is the prorc
sion of Christianity, and, I repeat,
its very divination of our needs is in itself a proof
that it is really the supply of them.
Upon the doctrines which I have Inentioned as
central truths, others, as we all know, follow, which
rule our personal conduct and course of life, and our
social and civil relations. 'rhe prolni
ed Deliverer, the
Expcetation of thp l1ations, has Hot dOlle IIis \vork by

Rcz ' caled Rcligion.

4- 8 9

nn lvt.
. lie has given us Saints and
\ ngels for onr
protection. He hft=-' taught us ho,v by onr prayers And

ervices to benefit our departed friends, and to keep
up a uleu10rial of ourselves when we are gOlle. lie
ha
created a visible hierarchy and a succession of
sacraments, to be the channels of Ilis luércie:-" au<1 the
Crucifix secures the thought of Hitn in every house
and chalnber. In all these ways He brings Himself
before us. I an1 not here speaking of IIis gifts as gifts,
but as melnorials; not as
hat Christians know they
convey, but in their visible character; and I say, that,
as human nature itself is still iulife and action as nluch
as ever it was, so lie too lives, to our iUlaginations, bv
Ilis visible symbols, as if He were on earth, with a prac-
tical efficacy which even uubelieyers cannot deny, so
as to be the corrective of that nature, aud its strength
day by day,-allù that this power of perpetuating His
Image, being altugether singular and special, and the
prerogative of I-lim anJ Ilinl alone, is a. grand evidence
how ,veIl He fulfils to this day that Sovereign )fibsion
which, fronl the first beginning of the world's history,
has been iu prophecy assigned to IIinl
I cannot better illustrate thi::; argument than by re-
curring to a deep thought on the sUbjEct of Chris-
tianity, which has before now attracted the notice of
philosophers and preachers,1 as c01uing froln the
,vonderful man who swayed the destinies of Europe in
the first years of this century. It was an argument
not unnatural in one ,vho had that special passion for
human glory, which has been the incentiv'e of so many

'i Fr. Lacordaire anù :\1. XiCOJ:1S,

490 Infi'rcJlcc anti A sscnt 11l Rel(f{l()Jl.

heroic careers and of so many mighty revolution
In
the history of the 'world. In the solitude of his iUl-
prisonment, aud in the view of death, he :seelns to
have expressed himself to the following effect :-
"I have been accustomed to put before me the
examples of Alexandet- and Cresar, with the hope of
rivalling their exploIts, and living in the tninds of men
for ever. Yet, after all, in ,,
hat sense docs Cæsar, in
what sense does Alexander live? \\Tho knows or
cares anything about them? At best, nothing but
their naUIes is known; for who among the multitude
of 1l1Cn, who hear or who utter their names, really
knows anything about their lives or their deeds, or
attache
to those names any definite idea? Nay, even
their naines do but flit up aud down the world like
ghosts, mentioned only on particular occasions, or
from accidental as
ociations. T'heir chief home is the
schoolroom; they have a foremost place in boys'
graUIl11ars and exercise book
; they are splendid
exanlplcs for thenIes; they forill ,vritil1g-copies. So
low is heroic Alexander fallen, so low is inIperial
Cæsar, 'ut pueris placeat et declamatio fiat.'
"But, on thp contrary" (he is reported to have
continued), "there is ju
t One Nanle in the whole
world that lives; it is the Name of One who passed
I1is years in obscurity, and who died a malefactor's
death. Eighteen hundred years have gone since
that time, but still it has its hold upon the human
luind. It lIas possessed the world, and it maintains
possession. Alnid the most varied nations, under
t he most diversified circ 1 lmstances, in the most

Rcvca/t;d R eligiou.

49 1

cultivateJ, in the ruùe
t races and intellects, in all
cla

e
of society, the OWllcr of that great Xan10
relgn
. lIigh anù lo,v, rich and poor, acknowledge
Him.
[illions of souls are conversing with IIiul, are
venturing on His worù, are looking for RiB Presence.
Palaces, sUlnptuou
, innumerable, are raised to lIis
honour; IIis Ï1nage, as in the hour of His deepe
t
lllllniliation, is triuIl1phantly dispb.yed in the proud
city, in the open country, in the corners of streets, on
the tops of mountains. It sanctifies the ancestral hall,
the closet, allù the bedcbalnher; it is the subject for
the exercise of the highe
t genius in the imitative arts.
It is ,vorn next the heart in life; it is held before the
failing eye
in death. Here, then, is One who is not a
mere name, who is not a Inere fiction, ,vho is a reality.
lIe i
dead and gone, but still He lives,-lives as a
living, energetic thought of sllcce
sive generations, as
the awful n1otive-power of a thousand great event
.
He has done without effort what others with life-long
struggles have not done. Can lie be le
s thau
Divine? 'Vho is He but the Creator Rill1self; who
i
sovereign over I1is own w'orks, towards wholn our
eyes and hearts turn instinctively, because He is our
Father and our God? " 8
Ilere I end lIlY specinlens, among the many which
luight be given, of the arguments. aùducible for Chris-
tianity. I have dwelt upon them, in order to show
how I would apply the principles of this E
say to the
proof of its divine origin. Christianity is Hddre
sed,
both as regards its evidences anù its contents, to

· Occas. Serm., pp. <.W-51.

492 Illfi'rCllCe a1uí 1 sseut il1 Rcligion.

nlint1s 'which are in the Dornlal condition of human
nature, as believing in God and in a future judgment.
Such miuds it aùùresses both through the intellect
and through the imagination; creating a certitude of
its truth by arguments too various for direct enumera-
tion, too personal and deep for words, too po,verful
and concurrent for i 1 efutation. Nor need reason COllIe
fir
t and faith second (though this is the logical order),
hut one aud the salue teaching is in different aspects
both object and proof, aHd elicits one conlplex act
both of inference allù of assent. It speaks to us one
by one, and it is received by us one by one, as the
counterpart, so to ðay, of our:-5clves, anù is real as ,ve
a re real.
In the
acred words of its Divine ,,"-luthor and
Object concerning Hiln::;elf, " I aIll the Goud Shepherd,
and I know
line, and
Iinp know
re.
Iy sheep
hear
ly voice, and I know them, al1d they follow :Jle.
..A.nel I givl! thetn everla
ting life, and they shall never
peri
h; a.ud no ruan
hall pluck th
m out of illy
haud-'"

XOllE 1.

On Hoo
'er and Cll1'11in.qzcortn, vid. sl1])r. 22ft

1. Os the first publication of this volume, a Correspondent did
me the favour of marking- for me a list of pa,ssa,ges in Chillill
.
worth's ct>lebrated work, beside:;; that which I had myself quoteJ t
in which the argument was m01'
or It 1 SS bronght forward, on
which I have animadverted in ch. vii.
2. p.

ß. lIe did thi

wit h the purpose of showing, that Cbillin
worth'8 me
ning, when
carefully inquired into, would be found to be in substanti'1.1
agreement with the distinction I håd mJself made between in-
fallibility and C'ertitude; those inaccuracies of language into which
he fen. being n('ces
arily involved in the argumentum ad hominem,
which he was ur
ing- upon his opponent, or being the accidental
result of the ppculiar character of his intellect, which, while full
of ideas, was wanting in the calmnesC\ and caution which are con-
spicuous in Bishop Butler. Others mOre familiar with Chilling-
worth than I am must decide on this point; but I can have no
indisposition to accept an expLmation, which deprives controver-
sialists of this da.r of the authority of a vigorou
and acute mind in
their use of an argument, which is certainly founded on a great
confusion of thoug-ht.
I subjoin the references with which my COrl"c:-;pondent has
supplied me :-
(1.) Pa
sageC\ tending to show an a
reement of Chillingworth's
opinion on the di
tinction between certitude and infa.lliLility
with that laid down in the foregoing e

ilY :-
1. .f Religion of Prote
tants," ch. ii.
121 (\"01. i. p. 21:3,.
Oxf. ed. 1838), " POl' may not a private man," &c,
2. Ibid.
15
(p.
G;)). The last sentence, howe\'t.'r. after
"when they thought they dre,l.lnt," is a fall into the
error which he had been exposing.

t Ibid.
IGO (p. 2ï c3).
.J. Ch. iii,
:26 (p. 3:J
), "
cither is Jour argum
J1t,7\ &c.
5. I1Jid.
36 (p. 3.16).
6. Ibid. 9;jU 'p, 3G:3), .. That Anraham." &e.

494

Note 1.

7. Ch. v.
63 (vol. ii p.
15).
R Ibid.
107 (p. 265).
9. Ch. vii.
I:
(P. .15
).
Vide. also vol. i. pp. 115, 121. 196, 23ß. 2.1,2, ,1.11.
(2.) PaRsages incon
istent with the above :-
1. Ch. ii.
25 (\"01. i. p. 177). An argumentum ad hominem.
2. Ibid.
28 (p. 180).
3. Ibid.
15 (p 189). .An ll1 o g11mentum ad lwminem.
4. Ibid,
1,19 (p. 2(3). An argumentum. ad hominem.
5. Ibid.
15,1 (p. 2(7). Quoted in the text, p.
:2û.
6. Ch. v.
5 (vol. ii. p. 391). He is arguin
on his
opponent's principies.
2. Also. I have to express my obligation to another Corrè-
8pondent, who called my, attention to a pas
age of Hooker
(" Eccles. Pol:' ii. 7) beginning" An earnest de
ire;' &c" which
Reemed to anticipate the doctrine of Locke about certitude. It
is so difficult to be sure of the meaning of a writer whose style
is so foreign to that of our own times. that I am shy of attempting
to turn this pa

age into categl'l'ical statements. Else, I should
fisk, does not ]Iooker here assume the absolute certainty of the
inspiration and divine authority of Scripture, and believe its
teaehing as tlie very truth unconditionally and without any
udmixture of doubt ? Yet what had he but probable evidence as
a warrant for such a ,.iew of it? .A
ain, did he receive the
Athanasian Creed on any log-ical demonstration that its articles
were in Scripture? í et he felt l,imsl'lf ablt' without any mis-

i\'ing to t'él'y aloud in the congregation, " 'Yhich faith except everJ"
one do keep whole and undefil
d, u:itlwut doubt he shall perish
ever1a
tingl'y." In truth it is the hHPP.Y inconsistellc'y of his school
to be more orthodox in their -'onclusions than in their premisses;
to be bl:èptic:j in their paper theories, and believers in their own
persons.
3. Also, a friend sends me w01'd, as regards the controversy on
tbe various readings of ShHkespeare to which I have referred
(supra, cbo viii.
1, p. 271) in illustration of the Rhorteomings of
Formal Inferenet', that, since the date of the article in tbe magazine,
of which I have there availed mJself, the verdict of critic
ha
been
unf:l\.ourable to the authority Rlld value of the Annotated Copy,
discovered twent)" 'years ago. I may add, that, since my first edition,

.ATote fl.

495

I have bad tbe plea
mre of reading Dr. Ingleby'
intere8tin
disser-
tation on the" Tracc
of the Author8hip of the 'VOl'ks attributed .to
Shake:sr eare . It

No
rE II.

On the alternative intellectually between Atheism and
Oatholicity, vid. supr. p. 1..11, &c.
IJecember, 1880.
As I am sending the last pages of the New Edition of this Essay
to the press, I aV'ail myself of an opportunity which its subjt>ct
makes apposite, to explain a misunderstanding, as appearing in a
London daily print, of a statement of mine used in controversy,
which has elicited within the last few days a prompt and effective
defence from the kind zeal of
Ir. Lilly. I should not think it
necessary to make any addition to what he has said so well, except
that it may be expected that what is a great mistake concerning me
should be I:)et right under my own hand and in my own words.
It bas been said of me th3.t "Cardinal Newman has confined his
defence of bis own creed to the proposition that it is the only
possible alternative to Atheism." I understaud this to mean, that
I have given up, both in my religious convictions and my contro-
versial efforts, any thought of bringing arguments from reason to
bear upon tbe qupt'tion of the truth of the Catholic t
tith, and that
I do Lilt rely upon the threat and the consequent 8ca.re, that, unless
a man L
a Catholic he ought to be an Atheist. A nd I consider it
tv L
8aiJ, not only that I use no argument in contro\'ers.)" in behalf
of my creed besides the threat of athl'ism as its alternative; bllt
also that I ha\ye not even attempted to prove by argument the
reasonableness of that threat.
Now, what do I hold, and what do I not hold? The present
volume supplies an answer to this question. From beginning to
end it is full of arguments, of which the scope is the truth of the
Catholic religion, yet no one of them introduce
or depends upon
the alternative of Catholicity or Athei
m; how, then, can it be t'aid
that that alternative is the only defence that I have proposed for my
creed r The Essay begins with refuting the fallacies of those who
say that we cannot believ
w ha,t we ca.nnot understand.
o a.ppealLO
the al'g"ument li'om Atheism here. Incidentally and obiter rl'a
on

49 ó

i\T ole J 1.

are given for saying that causation and law, as we find them in the
universe, be
peak an it.fìnite Creator; still no argumentum ab
atht:;smo. This portion of the work finished, I proceed to justi(v
certitude as exercised UPOIl a cumulation of proof;', short of demon-
stration scparately; nothing about atheism. Then I go to a direct
proof of theism (which, indeed, has been in a great mea
ure antici-
pated in a former chapter) as a conclusion drawn from three depart-
ments of phenomena; btill the threat of atheism is away. I pass
on to the proof or Cl!ristianity; and where does the threat of
atheIsm come in lwre? I begin it with prophecy; then I proceed
to thp coincident testimony of the two cdvenants, and thence to the
on
rpowering argument from the testimony borne to the divinity
of Catholici
m by the bravery and
ndural1ce of the primitive
martJrs. And there I end.

or is this my only argumentative work in defence of lJI.'.
"cn>ed It which I have gi,'en to the public. I have published an
"E
say on Devdopment of Doctrine;' "Theological Tracts," "A
Letter to Dr. I)usey," "A Letter to the Duke of Norfolk," WOrJiS
all more or le
s controver
ial, all dt.ft->Ilces of the Catholic creeù;
does the ,.cry word" atheism" o('cur in anyone of them?
So much, then, on what I do not hold and havp not gaid :-no\V
as to what I have avowed and do adhere to. ThiN brings me at
once to the
ilJing to which I have committed n1y
elf in " Apologia,"
pa

198, viz., "that there is no medium, in true philosoph},
between Atlwisl1l anù C:ltholicity, and that a. perfpctly consistent
mind, under tho
c circumstance
in which it finds itself here below
must embral'P either the one or the otber ;"-a saying which doubt-
less my critic has in mind, and which, I am aware, has been before
now a difficulty with readers whom I should be sorry to perplex.
Now, if we f()unù it as
ertecl in Dutler's Analog-)' that there is
no con
istent standing or logieal11lediu1-n bdween the acceptance of
tLt> Guspel and the denial of a )loral Governor, for the s.1me diffi-
culties
an be brought against both belief:;, and if the)' are fatal as
against Christianity, they are fatal against natural religion, should
we 110t havt> ullder
tood what wa:s meant? It might be tHkell,
indeed, as a threat against den)'ing Christianity, but would it not
have an argumelJtative basis and meaning, and would such an in-
terpretation be fair? It would bp quite fair indeed to say, as some
have said, " It drives me the wrong war," and its ad,.ocates could

ATote 11.

497

onJy reply, CI 'Vhat j
one man's meat is another man'E1 poi<ion," but
would it be fair to accuse Butler of putting aside all scientific
reasoning for a threat? No one would say, II Butler confines the
dl.fence of his own creed to the proposition that it is the only
possible alternative of the denial of the 1.10ral I,aw," putting asidp
aR nothing to the purpose his Sermons at the Rolls' Chapel. Yet
what have I said more dangerous or more obscure than Butlcr's
argument? Could he be said to destroy all logical proof of a God,
because he paraill-led the difficulties of grace to the difficulties of
nature P Na.r, even should he go on to say with me, " if on account
of difficulties we give up the gospel, then on account of parallel
difficulties we mu
t give up nature; for there is no standinO'-grouncl
between putting up with the one trIal of faith, and putting up with
the other? "
Nor is this all. It seems, insistence on this analo6'Y between th&
mysteries of nature and those of
race is my sole argument for
the truth of my creed. How can this be, from the very nature of
the ca.
e ? The argument from Analogy is mainly ne
ative, but
argument which tends to prove must bp positive. Butler does not
prove Christianity to be true by his famous argument, but L&
removes a great obstacle of a primâ facie character to listening to.
the proofs of Christianity. It is like the trenches solùiers dig to
shield them when they propose to storm a fort. No one would say
that such trenches di
pense with soldiers. So far, then, from" con-
fining" myself to the argument from Analogy in behalf of my
creed, I absolutely imply the presence and the use of independent
arguments, positive arguments, by the fact of using what is mainly
a negative one. And that I was quite aware oî this, and acted np(\D
it, the following passage flom my Sermon on JIJstcries t;hows
beyond mistake :-
" If I must submit my reason to mystpries, it is not much matter
w nether it is a m ,"stcry more or a mJstery less; the main difficulty
is to believe at all; the main difficulty for an inquirer is firmly to
hold that there is a living God, in spite of the darkness which
surrounds Him, the Creator, \Vitne
c;, and Judge of men. ',hen
once the mind is broken in, as it must be, to the bp1ief of a Power

bove it, wLen once it undel'stands that it i
not itself the measure
)f aU thin
s in heaven and earth, it will have litt1e àifficulty in
going forward. I do not sa.1f it u.ill, or can, go on to other truth

Kk

49 8

Note II.

without convirtion; I do not say it oU9ht to believt; the Catholic
Faith 'without grounds and motives j but I
ay that, when once it
belie\res in God, the great obstacle to faith ha
been takml away, a
proud, self-suffici
nt spirit, &.c."-(Discourses.)
I must somewhat enlarge what I have last been f:aying, 'Out it is
4n order to increase the force and fulness of this explanation. Thertt
is a certain sense in which Analogy may be said to supply a positiv

rgument, though it is not its primary and direct purpose. The

oincidence of two witnes es independently giving the same account
of a transaction is an argument for its truth; the likeness of two
-effects argues one cause for both. The t
LCt of l\lediation 80 promi-
!lent in Scriptun: and in the wodd, as Butler illllstrat
s it, is a
positive argument that the God of
cl'ipture is the God of the wodd.
fhis is the immediate sense in which I speak in the "Apologia tt
of the objective matter of Religion, Katural and Revealed, of the
character of the evidence, and of the legitimate position and exercise
of the intellect relativdy towards it. Religion has, as such, certa in
definite belongings and 8urrollndings, and it calls for what Aristotle
would call a 7rerrar.ðEV,u.Évor investigator, and a process of investi-
gation sui similis. This peculiarity I first found in the history of
doctrinal development; in the first instance it had presented itself to
me as a mode of accounting for a difficultJ, viz, for what are called
4, thC' Variations of Popery," but next I found it a law, which was
instanced in the succt':Þsive developments through which revealed
truth hJ.s passed. And then I reflected that a law im
lied a law-
giver, and that EO orderly and majestic a growth of doctrine in the
Catholic Church, contrasted with the deadness and helple
sness, or
the vague changes and contradictions in the teaching of other
religious bodies, argued a spiritual Presence in Rome, which was
nowhere else, and which constituted a presumption that nome was
right; if the doctrine of the Eucharist was not from heaven, why
ßhould the doctrine of Original Sin be? If the Athanasiall Creed
was from heaven, why not the Creed of Pope Pius? This was a use
of Analogy beside and beyond Butler's use of it; and then. when I
had recob"nized its force in the development of doctrine, I was led
to apply it to the Evidences of Religion, and in this sense I
came to say what I have said in the "Apolog-ia." " There is no
medium in true philosophy," "to a pedcctly consistent mind:'
" between Atheism and Catholicity."

Note II.

499

The multitude of men indeed are not consistent, 10
ical, or
thllrou
h; they obey no law in the coursp of their religiou
views;
and while;, they cannot reason without premisses, and premi
scs
demand first principles, and first principles must ultimately be (in
one shape or other) assumptions, they do not recognize what this
involves, and are set down at this or that point in the ascending or
descending scale of thought, according as their knowledge of facts,
prejudices, education, domestic ties, social position, and opportunities
for inquiry determine; but nevertheless there is a certain ethical
character, one and the same, a
ysten1 of first principles, sentiments
and tastes, a mode of viewing the question and of arguing, which is
formany and normally, naturally and divinely, the organum in-
vestigandi given us for gaining religious truth, and which would le,ul
the mind by an infallible succession from the rejection of atheism
to theism, and from theism to Christianity, and from Christianity
to Evangelical Religion, and from these to Catholicity. And again
when a Catholic is seriously wanting in this system of thought, w&
l'.3nnot be surprised if he leaves the Catholic Church, and then in
due time gives up religion altogether. I will add, that a main
reason for my writing this ES8ay on Assent, to which I am adding
the5e last words, was, as far as I could, to describe the or.qanu11t
investigandi which I thought the true one, and thereby to illustrate
and explain the saying in the" Apologia" which has been the-
subject of this Note.
I have only one remark more before concluding. I have said
of course there was a descending as well a.s an ascending course of
inquiry and of faith. IIowevpr, speaking in my" Apologia" of
Evidence8, and, following the lead of what I have said there ahou t
doctrinal development, I have mainly in view the ascending scale,
not the descending. I ha.ve meant to Ray, " I am a Catholic, tor the-
reason that I am not an Atheist." This makes the misinterpreta-
tion of my words which I am exposing the more striking-, for it
paraphrases me into a threat and nothing- else. viz. "If you are
not a Catholic, you must be an Atheist, and will go to hell. u Mr.
Lilly, in his letter in my defence, 8ees thi
, and most bappily adopt:t
the positive interpretation which is the true one.
This explanation, abo, is an answer to some good, but easily
frightened men, who ha\.e fancied that I was denying that the
Being of a God wa::; a natural truth, because I said that to deny

k 2

5 00

Note ./1.

re,pelation was the way to deny natural religion. I have hut argued
that the same sophIstry which denÌps the one may ùeny the other.
That the a
cellJing
cale of my abstract alternative has been the
prominent idea in my mind, may be argued from the following
pa
sage of a Lecture delivered many years before the" Apolog-ia: n_
" A Protpstant is already reachin
forward to the whole truth,
from the \ cry circumstance of his really grasping any part of it.
So strongly do I feel this, that I account it no paradox to say that,
Jet a man but master the OIlP doctrine of the l3eing of a God, let
him really and truly, and not in worJs only, or by inherited pro-
fession. or in the conclu.."ions ofrea
on, but by a direct apprehension
be a
Ionotheist,JJ (that is, with what in the foregoing Essay [
have called a" real a
::>cnt" as following upon ,. Inference," and
acting as a fresh start) "and he is already three-fourths of the way
towards Catholici
m:'
I end by pla.cing before the reader Mr. Lilly's apposite Letter,
dated Nov. 18,
"SIR,-I observe in your is:-;ue of this e'\'"ening a statcm
nt against
which I must bt)g your permission to protest in the stroug-est
Dianner ß.S a most t'erions, although, I am quite sure, an unin-
tentional, Dli
repre
enta.tion of my deeply v()neratt,d friend Cardinal
Ncwman, ':rhe
tatement is that' he has confin
d his defence
of his own creed to the proposition that it is the only possible
altprnative to atheism.' It certainly is true that Cardinal
Xewman has said, 'There is no medium, in true philosophy,
betwpen Atheism and Catholicism' (' Apologia,' p. 1D8, Third
Edition); and it as certainly is not true that he confines hi

defence of his creed to this propo'-itioll. He expre:-:sly recog'nize

'the formal proofs on which the being of a God rests' (they may
be seen in any text-book of Catholic theolo
y) as affording- , irre-
fragable demonstration' (' Dis( ourses to )lixed Congregations,'
p. 2H2, :Follrth Edition); but Hie great argument which comes home
to him personally with supreme force is that dcrived from the wit-
ness of Conscience-' the aboriginal Vicar of Christ, a prophet in its
informations, a monarch in its pereruptorines
, a priest in its bless-
ings and anathemas.' The exi8tcllce of God, 'borne in upon him
irresistibly' by the voice within, is 'the great truth of which his
whole being is full' (' Apologia,' p, 241).'
Alter quoting the words of :ÞtI. Renan,
lr. Lilly proceeds, U This

Note IIl.

501

JS the point from which he (Cardinal Newman) stal'ts. Conscience,
the' great internal teacher; , nearer to us than any other means of
knowledge,' informs us (as be judges) that God is; 'the f'pecial
Attribute under which it brings Him before U::;, to which it sub-
ordinates all other Attributes, being that of justice-rehibutive
justice' (' Grammar of Assent,' p. 385, Third Edition). 'Th...

en
e of right and wrong' he considers to be ' th9 first element' in
na.tural religion (' Letter to the Duke of Norfolk,' p, 67, :Fourth
Edition). And Catholicism, which he regards as the sole form of
Christianity historically or philosophically tenable, is for him the
only possible complement of natural religion. I cannot venture to
ask you to allow rue f'pace to do more than thus indicate the natul'e
of the argument by which he as('ends from his first to his final
reli;;ious idea. I would refer those who would follow it step by
step to his' Grammar of A:::,sent,' 'Apologia,' and' Discourses to
Mixed Congre
ations;' or, if a merp summary will suffice, to an
article of my own in the F01"tmghtly Rel'iew of July, 1879.
Cardinal Newman's main defence-not his sole defence- of his creed
amounts, then, to this: that religion is :m integral part of our
lIature, and that Catholicism alone adequately fulfils the expectation
of a revelation which natural religion rai
e
. This may bt> a good
or a bad defence; but, whether good or bad, it is very different from
the nude propo::;ition ' that Catholicism is the only pos
ible alterna-
tive to atheism.' " He ends with a few kiud words about IDJself
personally.
rid. my an8wer to Principal Fairbairn in the Contemporary
lltt'iew of October, 1
b5.

NOTE III.

On the punishment of the u'Ïl'Á"ed !zaring no termination,
vide supr. 42:...:

December, 1883.
A serious mi
representation of a passage in this volume, which
appeared la8t Jear in a Heview of great namt', calls for
ome notice
here.

5 02

Note III.

Petavius says, that, according to .Fathers of high authol'ity, 8
rifrigerl-ll11l, or refrigel'ia may be conceived as granted to the lost,
amid their endless penal sufli'ring; that is, that their puni
hment,
though without end, is not without cessation. I have quoted his
worùs in the footnote on p. 422; and in the text I have ventured
on a
uggestion of my own, but sLort of his, to the effect that a
rifrigeriuTIl wa
conceivable, which was not strictly a cessation of
puni:-õlllllent, thúugh it acted as such; I mean, the temporary absence
.
in the lost soul of the consciousness of its continuity or duration.
The f'tory is well known of the monk who, going out into the
wood to meditatt.', was detained there by the
ong ofa bird for three
hundred
ears, which to his consciomme
s passed as only one hour.
Kow pain as well as joy, may be an ecstasy, aud destroy for the
time the
ense of
uct'ession; en
n in thi8 life, and whpn not
great, it t'ometimes has this l'frect; and, supposing such an insensi-
Lility to time to Jast for three hundred years, for three hundred years
pain might be
athered up into a point; and there would be for that
inten'ala refl'igeriu11l. .And, iffì.>rthree hUlldredyears, so it might
be for three million, or million million, accordin
to the degrees of
guilt with which individual
(mls \\'erp severally laden.
It llIay be objected, that such a view of future punishment explains
away its beverity, and blunts its moral force
a threat and
restraint npon crime. Xot so; on this view the fact of
utrering and
of it::; eternity remains intact; and of sufl't:'l'ing, it lllay be," a::; by
fire." Also, the eternity of punishment remains in its negative
a
pect. viz., that there never will be change of state. annihilation or
restoration.
Iere eternity, though without sufl'ering, if realized in
the soul's consciousness, is fornlida.ble enoug-h; it would be insup-
portable even to the good, except for, and a8 involved in, the Beatific
Vi::.ion; it \\ ould be a perpetm
l solitary confinement. It is this
which makes the prospect of a future lite so dismal to our present
agnostics, who have no God to give them" mausions" in the
un
eeJl world.
On the other hand, it may be objected, that the longest possible
series of rifrigm'ia, to
hatever extent, added together, they lllay
run, is as nothing after all compared witb an eternity of punish-
ment. But this is to misconceive what I ha'-e been advancing.
As belonging to an eten11t)", the '1'ifrigeria wllich I contemplate
match in their recurn>nce, and reach as far a
, that eternit.r, aud

Note Ill.

5 0 3

tir
themselves in number infinite, as being e.xceptions in a courRf

which is infinite.
Further, it may be objected that this view of future punishment is
at first sight incom;istent with the teaching ofSt. Thomas, 2. 2, quo
xviii. 3, where he says that, if the lost are condemned to eternal
punishment, they must know that it is eternal, because such know-
ledge i8 necessarily a part of th
ir punishment.
I understand him to argue thus :-
1. It is ùe ratione p
næ that it should voluntati repugnare.

. But there cannot be this repu
nantia, unless there is present
to the party punished a consciousness of the fact of that pæna,
3. Therefore pæna implies a consciousness of the fact of the
pæna.
4. And, if the pæna is perpetual, so is its consciousness.
Certainly: but I do not predicate anything of the pæna, nor of
the consciousness of the pæna, nor of its perpetuity, nor of the
consciousness of its perpetuity; I do but speak of the cûnsciouJne
s
(perpetuity apart,) of the lapse of time or
ucces
iveness of
moments, through which that pæna and consciousness of pæna
pa
ses. The loot may be conscious of their lost state and of
its irreversibility, yet it may be a further question, whether, how-
ever conscious that it is irreversible, they are always or ever con-
f'cious of the fact of its long course, in memory and in prospect,
through periods and æons.
Thp song of the bird, which the monk heard without takmg
note of the passage of time, might bave been, ., And they shall
reign for ever and ever ;" though of the many thousand times of the
bil"d's repeating the words, there sounded in the monk's ear but
one song once sung. And if this may be in the case of holy soul:o;,
why not, if it should so please God, in the instance of the unhol,y ?
In what I bave been saying, I have con
idered eternity as infinite
time, because this is the received assumption.
And I have been speaking all along under correction, a
sub-
mitting absolutely all I have baid to the judgment of the Church
and its head.
rid. my article in the Contemporary above referred to.

THE E
D.

l\

SELECT LIST OF WORI(S

PÜ BLISHED BY

LONGl\IANS,

GREEN, & CO.

LONDO
A
D XE\V YORK.

.i\lE

US. LOXG)I.A

, GßEEN, & CO.

Ièstu the tllulerm,entioned Lists ofthtir Publications, which mny be had post f,.ee 011.
CtJlplication to them, at 39 Paternoster Row, London, E.C. :

1. )[O,,"THI.Y LlhT OF XEW WORh
AXD
XEW EDlTlO
:;.
.) QrARTERLY lIST OF A..'ÕX01JXCE\lEXTS
AXD X EW W OHKS.
3. XOTES ox BOOKS: BEIXU AX Ax \.-
LYSIS OF THE WORKS Pl'BLISHFD
Dt'RIXG EACH Qt'ARn.R.
4, CATALOGt'E u
. SCIE
TU'IC WORKS.
5. CATALOGt'E OF
IEDICAL AX}) SrR-
GlC'AL WORK";,

Ô. C,\TALOGl-E o
. SCHOOL BOO
B A
D
EDUCATlO
AL WORKS.

I. CATALOGt'E

IF
TARY
TEAcllERS.

OF BOOKS FOR ELE-

CHooLS AXD Pl'PIL

S. CATALOGl"E OF THEOLOGICAL WORh.S
BY DIVIXES ASD }[E'IDERS O}O' TH1

CHt'RCH OF E
GLAXD.

9. CATALOGUE OF "ORK
IS GEXERAL
LITERATt'RE.

CARDINAL NEWMAN'S WORKS.
Parochial and Plain Sermons. Edited by REV. "r, J. COPEL.\XD,
n. D., late Rector of Farnham, Essex. 8 vols. Sold separately.
Cro,\ n S\'o" Cabinct Edition, 38. each; Popular Edition, 38. 6d. each.
CO
ï
ïS OF \Y OL . I. :-Holine!;!'1 ne('es!;ary for Future Dlessedncss-The Immortality
of the
oul-KJlo\\ letlgt> of God's Will \\ ithout Ol>e,lieuce-Sccret }<'aults-ðelf-Denial the
fest of Religious Earnestness- The
l'iritual :Mind-
ins of Ignorance and Weakness-
God's Commandments not Grie\ous-'l'he Heligious Use of Excited Feelings-Profession
\\ ithout Practice-Profession \\ ithout lIypocri!;y-Prufe..;sion without O:.tentation-
Promising \\ithout Doing-Religious Emotion-Religious Faith Hational-The Christian

Irsteries-The Self-Wise Inquirer-( )hetlience the Hl'medy for Religious Perplexity-Times
of I>rÍ\ ate Prayer-Fol'lIIs of PrÍ\atc l)rayer-The Hesurrection of the Dolly-Witnesses of
the Resurrection-Christian Ue\erence-Tbe nt. 1 igioll of the Day-Scripture a Uecord of
Human Horrow-Christian )Ianhood.
CO
ïE
TS O}o" YOLo II.:-The World's Benefactors-Faith without
ight-Tbe Incar-
natioll-)hrt)'rdom-Lo\ e of Helations and Friends-The Jlind of Little Cbi1dren-
Ceremonies of the Church-The Glory (If the Chri
tian Church-St. Paul's Comersion
\"ie\\ed in Reference to his Oltict'-Secrecy and SllllJenness (If Di\ ille YisitatioJls-Divine
1>ecrees-The HeHrence Due to the llles:.
d Virgin )Iary-Christ, a Quickening Spirit-

:\\ing Knowledge-Sdf-Contelllplation-Rcligious Co\\ardice-The Gospel Witnesses-
Mysteries in Religion-The Indwelhng
l'irit-The Kingdom of the Saints-The Gospel,
. a Trust Committed to us-Tolerance of Heligious Error-Hebuking Sin-The Christian
'linistry-Human Responsibility-Guilelessness-The Danger of Riches-The Powers of
Xature-The Dang:pr of Accomplishments-Christian Zeal-Use of :Saints' Da)"s.

2

A SELECT LIST OF WORKS

CARDINAL NEWMAN'S WORKS.
Parochial and Plain Sermons.-Contin1led.

Cosn:sn; 01" YOLo III.:-Aùrnham amI Lot-Wilfulness of Israf'l in Rejecting Samuel
-
aul-Early Years of Da\ iù-Jeroùoam-Faith anù Obedience-Christian RppenL'wce-
Contracted Views in Re1i
ion-A particular Pro\'idcnce as revealed in the Gospel-Tears
of Christ at the Grave of Lazarus-Bodily Suffering-The lIumiJiation of the Eternal
on
-Jewish Zeal a Pattern to Christians-Suhmission to Church Authority-Conkst between
Truth and Falsehood in the Church -'rhe Church Vbil>le anù Invisible-The Visible
('hurch an Encouragement to Faith-The Gift of the
pirit-Heg(>nel'atillg llal)tism-Infant
Baptism-The Daily t::)ervice-The Good Part of )lary-ReJigious Worship a Relllcdr fur
Excitemell
-Illtercession-The Intermediate State.
CONTENTS OF VOL. IV. :-Tlle
trictness of th(> Law of Christ-Oll('dience without Lo\ c,
as instanced in the Character of Balaam-)Ioral Consequences of Single Sillfi-Acceptance
of Religious Privileges Compulsor)'-ReliaDce on Rt'Jigious Observances-The IndividuaJity
(If the Soul-Chastisement amid )Iercy-Peace and Joy amid Chastisf'ment-The State of
Urace-The Yisihle Church for the Sake of tilt' Elect-The Communion of Saints-The
Church a Home for the Lonely-The Invisible World-The Greatness aud Littleness of
Human Life-)Ioral Effects of Communion with God-Christ Hidden from the World-
Christ )Ianifestcd in Remem\H'ance-The Gainsaying of Korah-'Ihe bI)'steriousness of
our Pr{'s
nt lleing-The \"entures of Faith-Faith and Love- Watchin
-Keellillg Fast
ami Festival.
CONTE
TS Ot' YOLo \'.:-Worship, a Preparation for Clu'ist's Coming-Reverence, a
Belief in God's Presence-Unreal Words-
hrinking from Christ's Coming-Equallimity-
Hemembrance of Past
rercies-The :Mp;ter)' of Godliness-The Rtate of Innocence-
Christian Rymp.lthy-Rightcousness not of us, but in U8- The Law of the Spirit-The L\{'w
Works of the Gospel-The State of Salvation-Transgressions and Infirmities-Sins of
Infirmity-Sincerity and ll)'pocrisy-The Testimony of Conscience-1\lany caned, Few
ehosen-Presellt Blessings-Endurance, tl\e Christian's Portion-Affli..tion, a School of
Comfort-The Thought of God, the Stay of the Soul-Love, the One Thing
eedful-The
Power of the Will.
CONTENT
m' YOLo \.1. :-Fasting, a Hource of Trial-Life, tIle S('a8011 of TII>pelltmlce-
Apostolic Abstinence, a I'attl'rn for Christians-Christ's Privations, a
Iedita.tion for CI1J"i
.
tians-Christ the Son of God made Man-The Incarnate Son, a Sufferer and Sacritice-
The Cross of Christ the !tleasure of the World-JJitlìcnlty of realising Sacr('d PrÏ\"iJeges-
The Gospel Si
n Addressed to Faith-The Spiritual Presellce of Christ in the Church-
The Eucharistic Presence-Faith the Title for Justith-ation-Judai
m of the I'resent Da\"
-The Fellowship of the Apostles-Rising with Christ-Warfare the Condition of \ïctor)'
-Waiting for Christ-Suhjection of the Reason and Feelings to the Rf'\'('aled Word-
The Gospel Palaces-The Yisible Temple-Offerings for the Sanduar)' -The Weapons
of Saints-Faith Without Demonstration-The
I)'stery of the Holy 'l'rinit)'-Pcacc in
Believing.
CONTE1-.-rs OJ' \'01.. \"11.:-1'he Lapse of Time-Religion, a Weariness to the Xatural
)[an-The Worhl our I':nemy-The Praise of Men-Temporal Advantages-The Season of
Epipllany-The Duty of Self-Denial-The Yoke ofChrist-1\Ioses the Type of CI1rist-The
Crucifixion-Attendance on Holy Communion-The Gospel Feast-Love of Religion, a new

ature-Re1igion Pleasant to the Religious-Mental Prayer-Infant Baptism-The Unit)"
of the Church-Steadfastness in the Olù PaUls.
CO
TES"TR 01-' VOL. '"I1I.:-Reveren('e in Worship-Di\ine Calls-The Trial of
aul-
I'hl] Call of David-Curiosity, a Temptation to Sin-1\lirades no Remedy for Unbf'1ief-
Josiah, a Pattern for the Ignorant-hmard Witness to the Truth of the Gos}lel-Jeremiah,
a Lesson for the Disappointed-Endurance of the World's Censure-Doing Glory to God
in Pursuits of the World-"anity of Human Glory-Truth Hidden when 1l0t
ought after
-Ohedience to God the Way to Faith in Christ-::)ndllen Conversions-The Shepherd of
our Suub-Re1igious Jo)"-lgnorance of Evil.

Sermons Preached on Various Occasions. Crown Svo, Cabinet
Edition, 6s.; Popular Edition, 38. 6d.
CONTENTS :-Intellect the Instrument of Religious Training-The Religion of the
Pha.risee anù the H.eli
ion of :Mankind-Waiting for Christ-The Secret Power of Divine
Grace-Dispositions for Faith-OIl!Jlipotence in B.onds-St. Paul"s Ch
ra
.teristic Gift-

t. Paul's Gift of S)'mpathy-Clmst upon the" aters-The Second Sprmg-Order, the
Witness and Instrument of Unity-The .Mission of St. Philip Xeri-The Tree beside the
Waters-In the World, but not c,f the WorM-The Pope :md the Revolution.

PUBLISHED BY LONCJIAJ\'S, CREE'J\T,
CO. 3

CARDINAL NEWMAN'S WORKS.

Selection, Adapted to the Seasons of the Ecclesiastical Year,
from the' Parochial and Plaiu
cnnons.' Edited by the REV. "'.
J. COl'ELA
D, ll. D. Crown 8\"0. Cabinet Edition, 5s.; Popular
Edition, 3s. tid.

COSTF.STS :-Adl.'ent: Self-Denial the Test of Rl'ligious Earnestness-Divine CaIJs-
The Ventures of Faith-Watching. Christmas Ðny: Heligious JO)',
'ew }'wr's SlLndo y:
The Lapse of Tune. Epiphany: Hemcmorance of Ya
t )Iercies- F(l'lauimity-'l'he
Immortality of the Houl- Christian .Manhood-Sincerity and IIYl'ocris)'-Chri
tiali
Sy n ll)athy. Septlwgesim.a: Present Blessings. S.e:utge:.Üna: Endurance" the C
lril)tian's
PortlUn. Quinqltagesima: Lo,'e, the One 'rhing
eedful. Lent: The Indl\'lduahty of the
Soul-Life the
eason of Hel'enULUce-Bmlily Buffering-Tears of Christ at the Grave of
1 azaru
-Chrlst's Privatiolls, a )Ieditatiou fur Christians-The Cro
s of Christ the .Measure
of the World. Good Friday: The Crueilixioll. Eet
tcr Day: Keeping :1<'ast and Fe
tival.
Fasttr 7'tde: Witnesses of the Hesurrectiou-A Particular Yrovidellce as Hevealcd in the
Gospel-Christ Manilested in Helllelllorance-'Ilte Iuvisible Wurld-Waiting tur Christ.
.Iscension: Wa1'Íare the Condition of Yictory. Sunùay uftL-r Ascension: !Using \\ itlt
Christ. Whitsun Day: The Weapons of Saiuts. 7'riltily ::;unday: The l\I)'steriousne
s
o[ Our Present Being. Sundays ofter Trinity: Holiness l\ eceSs8f,}' for Future Blessedness
-The H.digious Use of Excited l'edings-The :::;elf-1Vise Inquirer-Scripture a Hecord of
Human :Sorrow-'l he Vangt'r of Ridles-Obedience without Love, as instanced in the
Character of Balaam-
Ioral Cousequences of Single Sius-The Greatness aud Littleness
of lluman Lire-
Ioral Etrects of Communion with Goel-The 'I'hought of God the Stay of
the
Clul-The Power of the Will-'lIte Gospel Palaces-Religion a Weariness to the
Satural Mau-The World our Enemy-The Praise of Men-Religion Pleasant to the
Heligious-l\Iental Prayer-Curiosity a Temptation to Sin-
1iraclcs no Remedy for Un-
ùelief-Jen'miah, a Lesson for the Disappointed-The Shellhenl of our :Souls-Doing 61or)'
to God in Pursuits of the World.

Sermons Bearing upon Subjects of the Day. Edlted by the REV.
'V. J. COPELA
D, B.D., late Rector of Farnham, Essex. Crown
8\'0. Cahinet Edition, 58,; Popular Edition, 3s, 6d.
CO:STE
TS :-The Work of the Christian-Saintliness not Forfcited by the Penitent-
Our Lord's Last Supper and His First-Vangel's to the Pentitent-The Three Offices of
Christ-Faith and Experience-Faith unto the World-The Church and the World-In-
dulgence in Heligious Privileges-ConncctlOn between Personal and Public Improvement
-Christian :Soolcupss-Joshua a Type of Christ and llis Followers-Elbha a Type of
Christ and His Followers-The Christian Church a Continuation of the Jewish-The
Principles of Continuity between the Jewish aud Christian t:hurches-The Christian
Church an Imperial Powcr-Baul'tity the Token of the Christian Empire-Condition of the
)lemLers of the Christian Empire-The Apostolic Christian-Wisdom and hmocence-
Invhòible Presence of Christ-Outward amI Inward Sotes of the Church-Grounds for
:-)teadfastness in our Religious Profession-Elijah the Prophet of the Latter Da)'s-Feast-
ing in Captivity-The Parting of Friends.

Fifteen Sermons Preached before the University of Oxford,
between A. D. i

ô and 1843. Crown 8'"0. Cabinet Edition, 58,;
Popular Editioll, 38. 6d.
COSTE
TS :-The Philosophical Temper, first enjoined by the Gospel-The Influence of
Xatllral and Ue,'ealed Religion respecti\'Cly-Evangelical ::5anctity the Perfection of
Satural Virtue-The Usurp.1tions of Heason-Personal Influence, the )Ieans of Propagatin

the Truth-On Justice as a PI'inciple of Divine Governance-Contest ùet\\een Fa
th
and
ight-Hul11an Hesponsibility, ns ilHlepcndent of Circumstances-Wilfulness tile Sin
of Saul-Faith and Ueason, contrasted as Ilablts of )lind-The Xature of Faith in Relation
to Reason-Love, the
aleguard of Faith against Superstition-Implicit and Explicit
Reason- Wisdum, as contrasted with Faith and with lligotr)'-Thf> Theory of Develop-
ments in Religions Doctrine

4

A SELECT LIST OF U"ORKS

CARDINAL NEWMAN'S WORKS.

Discourses Addressed to Mixed Congregations. Crown 8vo,
Cabinet Edition, 38,; Popular Edition, 3s. Gd.

CO
"TESTS :-The Sah"ation of the IIenrf>f the )Ioti\'c ofthl' Preacher-Xeglect of Divine
Calls and Warnings-MeJl not Angels-'l'hc Priests of the G(Jsp('I-Purit
and Loyc-
Saintliness tht> Stand.ml of Christian Priuc'iple-Goù's Will the Eml of Life-Persc\"eJance
in Grace-
ature anù Grace-Illuminating Grace-Faith anll Prh"ate Judgment-Faith
and Doubt-Prospects of the Catholic 'Iissinnef:-Mysteries of Sature anti of GraCI'-'fhe

Iystery of Divine Condescension-The Infinitudc of J)ivine Attrilmtes-)[etltal Sum'ringR
of Our Lord in His Passion-Thf> Glories of )Iary for the Sake of HCI" SOIl-Un the Fitno:s
of the Glories of )Iary.

Lectures on the Doctrine of Justification. Crown 8vo. Cahinet
Edition, 3s. ; Popular Edition, 3s. Gd.
CONTESTS :-Faith cOJlsiderc(1 ns the 111..trumental CmL')e of JlIstification-Lo\'c cnn-
siderell as the Formal Canse of Justitic.ltion-Primary Sense of the term' Justification '--
Secondary ::)cnses of thc term' Justific,ttion '-)Iisuse of the term' Just' or 'Highteons'-
The Gift of Uighteousness-Th
Characteristics of the Gift of Highteommec;s-HighteouR-
ness vkwed as a Gift and as a Quality- Highteommess the Fruit of our J onl's Resurrection
-The Office of Justif
iug Faith-The Xature of Justifying Faith-l'aith viewed relatively
to Hites and Works-On Preaching the Gospel-Appendix.

On the Development of Christian Doctrine. Crown 8\"0. Cabinet
Edition, Gs.; Popular Edition, 3s. Gtl.

On the Idea of a University. Crown 8vo. Cabinet Edition, ,s.;
Popular Edition, 3;;:. 6tl,
An Essay in Aid of a Grammar of Assent. Crown 8vo, Cabinet
Edition, 78. ßd,; Popular Edition, 38, Gd.

Two Essays on Miracles.
History. Crown
yo.
3s. 6d.

1. Of Scripture. 2. Of Ecclesiastical
Cabinet Edition, 6s.; Popular Edition,

Discussions and Arguments. Crown 8vo. Cabinet Edition, 6s.;
Popular Edition, 3
. fid.
1. How to accomplish it. 2. The Antichrist of the Fathers, 3.
crip-
ture and the Creed. 4. Tam\\orth Reading-room. 5. 'Yho'8 to Blame?
6. An Argument for Christianity,

Essays, Critical and Historical. 2 vols. Crown 8vo.
Edition, 12s,; Popular Edition, 7s.
1. Poetry. 2. Rationalißm. :{, Apostolic Tradition.
nais. 3. Palmer on Faith and Unity. 6, St. Ignatius.
the Anglican Church. 8. The Anglo-American Church,
Huntingdon. 10. Catholicity of the Anglican Church.
christ of Protestants. 12,
lilman's Christianity. 13.
the XI. Century. 1.t Private Judgmcnt. 15. Davison.

Cabinet

4, De la
lell-
-;. Prospects of
9. Countess of
] 1. The Anti.
lleformation of
16. Keble.

PUBLISHED BY LO].jGAIAf\lS, GREEN,
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CARDINAL NEWMAN"S WORKS,
Apologia Pro Vita Sua, Crown 8vo. Cabinet Edition, 68.;
Popular Edition, 3:::1, üd.
Verses on Various Occasions. Cro\\ n 8vo. Cabinet Edition, 68.;
Popular Editioll, 3s. fid.
Historical Sketches. 3 \'ols. Crown 8vo. Cabinet Edition, Us. each;
Popular Edition, 3s. fid, each,
1. The Turks.
. Cicero. 3. Apollonius. 4. Primitive Christianity.
5. Church of the Fa.thers. 6. ðt. Chrysostom, 7. Theodoret. 8. St,
Benedict. 9. IJenedictine Schools. 10. Universities. 11. Northmen ancl
Xornulls. 12.
Iediæval Oxford. 13. COllyocation of Canterbury.
The Arians of the Fourth Century. Crown 8\'0. Cabinet Edition,
fis. j Popular Edition, 3::;. 6d.
Select Treatises of St. Athanasius in Controversy with the
Arlans. Freely translated. 2 vols. Crown 8vo. Cabinet Edition,
158,

Theological Tracts, Crown 8vo. Cabinet Edition, 8
.
1. Dissertatiunculæ. 2. On the Text of the Seven Epistles of St.
Ignatius. 3. Doctrinal Causes of Arianism. 4. Apollinarianism. 5. St.
Cyril's Formula. 6. Ordo de Tempore. 7. Douay Version of Scriptures,
The Via Media of the Anglican Church. 2 yols. Crown 8\"0.
Cabinet Edition, üs. each j Popular Edition, 3s. 6d, each.
V 01. I. Prophetical Office of the Church,
Y 01. II. Occasional Letters and Tracts.

Certain Difficulties felt by Anglicans in Catholic Teaching Con-
sidered, 2 vols,
V 01. I. Twelve Lectures. Crown th'o. Cabinet Edition, is. Gd.;
Popular Edition, 3s. 6d.
'
01. II. Letters to Dr, Pusey concerning the Blessed Virgin, and to
the Duke of Norfolk in defence of the Pope and Council.
Cro\\ n
h'o. Cabinet Edition, 5s, ülL j Popular Edition,
3s. Gd.
Present Position of Catholics in England. Crown 8vo, Cabinet
Edition, 7s. G(L ; Popular Edition, :l
. Uti.
Loss and Gain. The Story of a l "fonyert, Crown 8\'0. Cabinet
Edition, 6s. j Popular Edition, 3s. 6d.
Callista. ...\ Tale of the Third Century. Crown 8vo. Cahinet
Edition, 6s. ; Popular Edition, 3s. üù.
The Dream of Gerontius. 16n1l1,
ewedJ 6d.; cloth, 1
.

6

A SELECT LIST OF fVORKS

CARDINAL NEWMAN'S WORKS.
POPULAR EDITION.

P,\rochial and Plain
crmons. 8 vols. Each
Sermons preached on Various Uccasions .
Selection, from the Parochial and Plain Sermons
Sermons bearing 011 Subjects of the Day. ,
Sermons preached before the Univer
ity of Oxford,
Discourses aùdressed to i\1ixed Congregations .
Lectures on the Doctrine of J ustitìca.tioll
On the Development of Chrh;tian Doctrine .
011 the Iùea of a Univ
rsity . .
An Essay in Aid of a Grammar of ...\.ssent
Biblic3.1 and Ecclesiastical
liI"acles . .
Discussions and Arguments on Yarious Subjects
Essa.ys, Critical and lIistorical. 2 vols. Each
Historical Sketches. 3 vols. Each
The Arians of the Fourth Century
The Via ßIedia of the Anglican Church. 2 vols. Each
Ditficulties felt by Anglicans considered. 2 vols. Each
Present Position of Catholics ill England
Apologia pro Yita Sua
Yerses on V arious Occasion
.
Loss and Gain
Callista

3s. 6ù.
3s. fid.
3s. 6d.
3s. 6el.
3s. 6d.
;
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3s. ôd,
:
s. 6ù.
3s. (hI.
:
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3s" Gù,
3s. 6el.
3s. Gù.
;
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3s. 6el.
:
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3s. 6d.
3s. 6d.
3s. 6d.
3:3. 6d.
3 s. 6<1.
;
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NEWMAN.-The Letters and Correspondence of John Henry
Newman during His Life in the English Church. 'Yith a brief
Autobiographical ßlemoir. Arranged and edited, at Cardinal
Newman's request, by
Irc:;s A..
xE )IoZLEY, Editor of the' Letters
of the Rev. J. B. )Iozley, D,D., Regius Professor of Divinity in
the University of Oxford.' 'Yith Index and two Portraits,

\"ols. 8\"0. 30s. 1lPt.

FOUARD.-The Christ, The Son of God. A Life of Our Lord
and Saviour Jesus Christ. By the ABBÉ COXSTAXT FouARD,
Honorary Cathedral Canon, Professor of the Faculty of Theology
at Rouen, etc., etc. Translated from the Fifth Edition with the
Author's sanction, By GEORGE F. X. GRIFFITH. 'Yith an
Introduction by CARDIXAL
IANXIXG. Third Edition. 'Yith
3
Iaps. :2 vols. Crown 8vo. 14s.

Saint Peter and the First Years of Christianity. By the
ABnÉ COXSTAST FocARD. Translated by GEOl
GE }'. X. (;RIF.FITlJ.
[In the Pres,>:.
The success of .Mr. Griffith's translation of the Abbé Fouarù's I Life of Jesus,' in tMs
country, has encouraged the translator to undertake another volume of the author's
series on the Origins of the Church, I St. Peter and the First Years of Christianity' i:-
in the printer's 11aud
, aUll wi1l1le publishell shortly,

PUBLISHED BY L01VGiJIAl\lS, GREEN,
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L YONS.-Christianity or Infallibility-Both or Keitber. By the
Rev. DA
IEL Lyoxs. Crown
\
o. DS.

'His method is thorou
hly lloþular, and while he has admiraLI) succeeded in avoiding
that didactic and argumentative style which is apt to repel the ordinary reader of our
clay, he nevertheless leaves the distinct impressiol1 that his reasoning is based on sound
logic, and strengthened by such authoritie!:l as would command the attention of eveI')'
theological student.
'The work is full of erudition, as is shown Ly the numerous notes indicating a widc
range or pertinent and careful reading. . . . The book is a BoH(1 and timely contribution
to the theological literature of the day.'- 4meJÏ('(l1t Ecclesiastical Bet"Íew.

CLARKE.-A Pilgrimage to the Holy Coat of Treves. \Vitb
an Account of its History and Authenticity. By RICH.\RD ):'.
CLAHKE,
.J. \\ïth Illustrations. Cro\\n 8vo, 48.

CHRISTIAN BIOGRAPHIES:
Henri Dominique Lacordaire. A Biographical Sketch. :B)
H. L. SIDXEY LEAR. 'Yith Frontispiece. Crown 8\"0. 38. 6d.

A Christian Painter of the Nineteenth Century; being the
Life of Hippolyte Flandrin. By H. L.
IDXEï LEAR Crown
8'.0. 3. (.it!,

Bossuet and his Contemporaries.
Crown gyo. 38. ßd.

By H. L. SIDSEY LE4\R.

Fénelon, Archbishop of Cambrai.
H. L.
IDXEY LE.\R. Crown
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A Biographical
ketch. .By
3s. Gd.

A Dominican Artist. A Sketch of the Life of the Rev. Père
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IDXEY LE,\H.
Crown 8'.0. 3s. 6d.

The Life of Madame Louise de France, Daughter of Louis XY.,
also known as the :Mother Thérl'se de S. Augustin. By H. L.
SID
F.Y LEAR. Cro\\ n 8'.0. 3s. Gd.

The Revival of Priestly Life in the Seventeenth Century in
"France. Charles de Condren-So })}1Ïlip Xeri and Cardinal de
Berulle-S. Yillcellt de Paul-So bulpice and Jean Jacques Olier.
By H. L. bIDXEY Lt:.\I{. Crown 8vo. 38. 6d.

Life of S. Francis de Sales, Bishop and Prince of Geneva. By H.
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Henri Perreyve. By A. GRATRY, PRÊTRE DE L'OR.-\'fOIRf
,
Professeur de :Morale Evallgélique à la ðorbonne, et )Iembre de
l'Acadl'mie Fran
aise. Translated, by special permission, by H,
L. ::'IL>
EY Lt'AR. 'Yith Portrait. Crown 8\"0. 3s. 6d.

8

A SELECT LIST OF
VORKS

,
FENELON.-Spiritual Letters to Men. By ARCHBISHOP FE
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